


Recrudescence

by squiggly_squid



Series: Parable [7]
Category: Mass Effect
Genre: F/M, Post-Reaper War
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-04-26
Updated: 2017-04-13
Packaged: 2018-06-02 07:17:33
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 84
Words: 267,061
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6556984
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/squiggly_squid/pseuds/squiggly_squid
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>The Reaper war is over, but what are the consequences of decisions made?</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

-Garrus-

 

The piano playing is soothing as he waits, waits for her.  With drink in hand and weight of his armor finally free from his shoulders, Garrus keeps his eyes on the entrance, letting the glass grow wet with condensation.  He doesn’t want to drink until she arrives, promising her that he’d be the first to buy the drinks.

 

If he had eyes for anything but the entrance in search of her, he’d notice how everything around him is nothing but the small section of bar, a single solitary seat besides his own, and white, flowing mist.  It’s not a foreboding sense of emptiness, but one of silent comfort, a still air of nothing but himself and the patience of waiting for her.  A patience instilled in him that he’s really starting to think of testing.

 

Just as he envisions going out in search of her, of what that might entail, _she_ steps through the white fog, beautiful and grinning in that tiny black dress from a long ago time.  Her happiness and warmth flows through him and he sets his glass down to stand, wrapping his arms around her when she runs to him, throwing her arms around his neck.

 

“About time you decided to show up,” he rumbles as he nuzzles her cheek.  “I thought I’d have to wait here forever.”

 

She chuckles and kisses him.  “Oh, I’m sorry I was doing your job for you mister ‘I took the last shot’.”  

 

Snorting at her smirk, he pulls her into his lap, forgoing her own seat.  “We both know you were just looking for a way to get to press the big red button before me.”

 

“True,” she responds with a wry grin and clinks her glass to his.  “It was a mighty fine explosion.”  They both taste their drink with shared hums of delight before she adds, “Sent those fuckers out with a bang while you were sitting on your ass.”

 

“You know me,” he says as she nuzzles her nose to his mandible, leaning into his chest.  “I love to leave you with all the work.”

 

“Funny.  That’s the exact opposite of in bed.”  He snorts and takes another sip as she lays her head on his shoulder, free hand caressing his cheek plate.  “It wasn’t as fun without you hounding me and constantly yelling ‘Jane!’ in my comm-”

 

“Or in your head,” he teases and smirks at her eye roll.  “And I thought you loved my voice.”

 

“Since we met,” she agrees with a smirk and nod.  “Pretty much anything you do with your mouth.”  

 

At that, she smirks heatedly, just demanding he press his mouth to hers and slide his tongue in her mouth.  As if thought automatically merges into action, he feels his own tongue curling around hers to taste the spiced liquor mixing with her tastes as his own alcohol coated taste combines with hers.  

 

As he slides his hand along her thigh, just giving a bare hint of touch beneath the dress’ hem, he starts to get the most peculiar feeling.  Arm going numb, he loses the feeling of her skin beneath his fingers, a painful sting radiating from his shoulder to his fingertips.

 

As he trills in confusion, a look in her eyes reveals a very similar expression.  At her drawn brows, he rumbles in question and asks, “You feel that too?”

 

“Yeah,” she answers with a slight nod, laying her hands on her knees.  “My legs feel numb, like they’re asleep.”

 

“My arm.”  He lifts his hand up and tries rolling his wrist, not feeling the movement though his eyes tell him he’s managed it.  “What could it be?”

 

“ _Last call…_ ”

 

Smiling softly as if they both aren’t feeling the disorienting feeling of suddenly losing sensation in their limbs, she cups his face and kisses him tenderly, tongue caressing and gently dancing.  When she pulls away, her hands slide back around to hug him tightly.  

 

“See you on the other side,” she whispers and he frowns.

 

“But… this _is_ the other side.”

 

Chuckling in that warm, soothing tone, she runs a hand over his fringe as her other takes his hand that can still feel sensation.  “The _other_ other side.”

 

Before he can try to argue, to ask her what ‘other side’ she seems so privy to, the bar begins to fade.  Her weight in his lap lifts off him as his mind starts to lose the sight of her, the white slowing engulfing him and shifting as the feeling in his arm becomes the only sensation before it, too, disappears.  

 

\----

Garrus wakes with a groan, knowing immediately that something is off before even opening his eyes.  Besides the soreness all over his body, the weak feeling of being immobile for far too long and the itch in his plates from lack of proper hygiene, he feels… different.

 

Opening his eyes as he tries to sit up, his arm buckles beneath him, sending him back down in the bed.  He growls in frustration and looks around, finding himself in some sort of dark tent, the only thing telling him what _kind_ the medical machines currently beeping at a rapid pace, machines attached to _him._

 

“What the…”  He tries to sit up, using both hands and trills, eyes widening at the sudden _lack_ of something that should be.

 

 _Trying_ to bring his hands before his eyes only jerks up his right hand, his left as if there but… not.  Trills going shrill and keening, he feels his left side to find the horror at his shoulder.

 

His arm is _gone_!

 

Just as he howls in fear and shock, a turian woman, older by himself from the cracks lining her features and aged wisdom of years in her eyes, pushes aside the flap of the tent and rushes to his side.  “Please, sir.  You have to calm down!  You’ve been through-”

 

That’s when realization hits him like a krogan, everything that has led to this point crashing down.  He knows what has happened to him, doesn’t really need to hear after what he knows, but there _is_ one thing he doesn’t know, yet _has_ to immediately.

 

“My wife,” he growls as his only hand snaps forward quick as a gunshot and wraps around the woman’s neck.  “Where is she?!”

 

The woman, a doctor by her uniform and smell of sanitizing fluids, trills and grips his hand, clearly in disbelieve that he’d be so strong after what feels like, to him, ages of inactivity.  He doesn’t know how long he’s been out, but the lack of pain doesn’t bode well for it being only a short time.  He’ll find out soon enough, he supposes, once his biggest concern is tended to.

 

“She… She is… here…”

 

“Where is _here_?  Take me to her!”  He doesn’t need to hear any more explanation.  If she’s alive, if she’s here, he will be damned if he’s away from her a second longer.  

 

Shoving her away from him, he rips the sheets off, scarred more than he remembers, but _visually_ capable to walk.  He just needs to make sure his legs can still carry him.

 

The doctor clambers to her feet and, despite the very real threat of getting in his way, growls as she tries to push him back as he tries to get up.  “You _cannot_ leave this bed!  You’ve been unconscious for-”

 

“It is alright, Aelia,” a voice and rumbling he recognizes says as light floods the tent once again.  “I can tend to Garrus from here.”

 

“Arcanus,” Garrus growls as he pushes the woman off him, ripping off the monitoring equipment and standing on weak legs thanks to using the bed as support.  The doctor glares at him with a low, rumbling snarl of reprimand, but she’s obviously either too smart to get in his way or is an actual position to have to follow the merc’s orders.  “Where is Jane?”

 

“In an adjoining tent-”

 

“And why am I not with her?”

 

“Because they are not big enough for two beds.  Side by side is the closest we could do.”  The man crosses his hands behind his back.  “I can take you to see her, though I must warn you that her condition is… a delicate one.”

 

His anger drops like a stone and he keens.  “What?  Is she okay?”

 

“She will be.  For now, she needs rest.  As you did and still do.”

 

“Take me to her.  Please, Arcanus.”  Never in his life would he expect to be pleading with a mercenary, no matter the circumstances, but now?  Now, with his wife so close yet so far away from him, he isn’t above begging to get to his love.

 

Reguix nods and comes to his side, taking Garrus’ good - _only,_ he needs to remember that - arm over his shoulder and wraps his own arm around his waist to help support him.  Slowly, so slowly thanks to his weakened state, they traverse the seemingly endless trek between his bed and the tent’s opening.  Beyond that is an even greater distance between his tent and hers right beside it.

 

“Why are we in a Blue Suns camp?” he asks as he shades his eyes from the, compared to the dark tent, bright, cloudy day to look around at all the blue armors walking around a camp built from the rubble of an Earthen city.  It doesn’t look quite like the one they had fought in, so it leaves question as to _where_ they are, but he was never any expert at human cities, so he doesn’t really know.

 

“I will explain when you both are in a better condition,” Arcanus says as he opens the tent.  “For now, you should tend to yours.”

 

As his eyes adjust, he squints and tries to make out shapes, hearing a soft breathing aside from his and their friend’s and the soft beep of machines, but that’s it.  “Arcanus,” he asks softly, fearing the answer.  “Where are our children?”

 

“With your father and sister, upon last communications.”

 

“Last communications?”  He rumbles in confused questioning.  “Where are they?”

 

Reguix thinks this over with a hum before looking his way, only his shadow able to be made out, but features slowly growing out of the darkness.  “Relay travel has been limited the first months and now less reliable than we are used to.  They will arrive shortly to see to you and your wife.”

 

Relay travel limited?  Could something have happened to the Relays?  

 

_Wait… months?_

 

“How long have I been asl-”

 

Arcanus stops him with a raised hand.  “I believe it better to focus on more important matters.”

 

Nodding in agreement with his eyes fully accustomed to the dark, he looks to the bed and gasps at the sight of his mate laying upon the bed.  Asleep in a state similar to his own, her upper right torso from neck to her forearm are covered in bandages, the smell of antiseptic strong in the air.  As he stumbles to the bed beside her and his eyes rake over her, stopping at a sight he can’t imagine being true.

 

Raising his hand, he slowly lowers it over her legs, not stopping until it touches the bed.  He keens and fists the blankets where her legs should be, leaning over her in her bed as his stomach clenches and chest tightens.  “You monsters…”

 

Arcanus doesn’t say anything, doesn’t need to in this sort of situation, and Garrus doesn’t truly blame him, not realistically, but, right now, he is anything but being realistic.  Growling, he spins and tries to swing, slow from drugs and lack of strength.  The man easily avoids the move and the effort sends Garrus nearly collapsing on the floor if not for the bed.  

 

He might as well have fallen because, as it is, he is simply a mess of dry sobs and keens as horror of what they did to his mate wash over him.  Sliding to the floor, he pulls up his legs and buries his head in his hand, the sensation of the other still there.  

 

It hurts and all he can think of is how she’ll take it, how hurt she’ll be with such a massive part of her life - her _mobility_ \- taken from her.  Haven’t they given enough for this damn war, but they had to give their bodies as well?  Or parts of them?

 

“Why?” he whispers as he looks up at the older man.  “Why take her legs?  My arm?”

 

Reguix offers a hand up, helping him to lean against the bed because he refuses to sit where her legs _should_ be, it feeling like an insult to her.  With his only hand, he takes hers and links their fingers, waiting for the answers, or what he can stomach of them.

 

“Both of your conditions were very similar.  For you, I hear that there was no way the rescue team could remove the wreckage from you in time to save your life.”  The man looks to him and motions the bandages wrapped around his left side and torso.  “You were badly burned on top of your injury and they feared infection was already setting in.  I hear that they performed the amputation on the field to save your life.”

 

It must have been after he had lost consciousness, after the blast that came from the Crucible.  He couldn’t remember much after it and it was hard to even remember much before besides the continued mantra in his head to stay alive for her, until she came for him either in death or to help pull him from the rubble.

 

“And Jane?”  He frowns and leans forward to press his forehead to hers.

 

“When the Crucible fired, the tower she was in collapsed.  My men managed to find her, but it took some time to remove the rubble and, by then, she was in much the same situation as you.  We tried to revive the limbs, but the damage was too extensive.  The doctors removed them to save her life.”

 

Garrus frowns in pain at that, at ever seeing his mate in pain, and nips gently on her cheek.  “And the bandages?”

 

“Both of you sustained burns.  They have healed, by my understanding, but the doctors have been using a cream to limit scarring.”  He hums at that and gives just the barest hint of a shrug.  “It is your choice to continue the treatment or not.”

 

At that, Garrus releases his wife’s hand and uses talons too sharp from time to slice off the bandages and finally get a look at his wounds.  True to his words, the burns _have_ healed, a huge patch from his cowl, over his bare shoulder and down to lick at his waist and, whether it’s a good thing or not, don’t look much different from his facial and right shoulder scars.

 

“Well,” he starts as he runs his fingertips over the long scar where his arm used to be, his entire side flush from ribs to shoulder.  “She did always say she liked scars.”

 

“I take it that you will not continue the treatment?”

 

“No.  I don’t need vanity.”  He looks to the other man as he retakes his wife’s hand.  “I just need an arm and learn how to use it.”

 

“One is already on the way as well as prosthetic legs for her.”

 

“One more thing.”  Garrus’ words stop the man in his tracks as he moves to leave.  “How long?”

 

“Four months.”

 

That is like a punch to the gut and Garrus has to release his mate’s hand to steady himself as the world spins.  “Wh… what?  I could have sworn I almost heard you say-”

 

“It has been three months and twenty days according to Earth standards since the Reapers were defeated,” Arcanus confirms.

 

“We… We’ve been asleep that long?”  His eyes widen as he turns them on.  “Our children are seven months old?”

 

“If the math is correct, yes.”  Seeming to feel Garrus’ need to know _anything_ about their state, he rumbles and comes over to lay a hand on his shoulder.  “They are safe.  They would have been here if not for the unreliability and overabundance of traffic concerning the Relays.  We expect them within the next few days.”

 

“But they are safe?  Okay?  Do you know anything else?”

 

“I am sorry, Garrus.  Liara has tried to keep the information scarce in efforts to limit possible exposure.”

 

Discretion.  That was what Jane and he had always asked for from their friends and shipmates.  Above all, they were to keep quiet about their children, no matter what.  With hope, that was the only reason why Arcanus knew so little and, if Liara reporting back meant anything, their babies were well looked after for now by those they know and trust.  

 

It still left the giant, glaring _four months_ of their lives they have lost.   _Four months_ …

 

“Four months,” he whispers to himself as he looks to his mate.  “Will she be okay?  Will she wake soon?”

 

Arcanus nods and releases his shoulder.  “You both were removed from the medication keeping you asleep at the same time.  However, I suspect she might stay asleep for some time longer due to the amount of sedative they had to use to keep her asleep.  She should wake sometime within the next few days.”

 

Garrus nods in understanding and leans down to press his forehead to hers, speaking softly, “Why, Arcanus?  Why help us like you have?”

 

“Because I like to consider you both my friends,” he says without hesitation.  “Besides that, I owe the two of you more than I should put a quantity to, so doing this is not an actual task, but something I was honored to do.”  Rumbling, Arcanus heads for the tent flap, turning back to add, “For now, try to rest.  I will ensure that there is something comfortable enough for you brought in.”

 

“Arcanus?”  He looks to the man with a sincere rumbling in his chest.  “Thank you.”

 

The man simply nods in understanding and acknowledgment before the tent is flooded with light on his exit only to be thrown back into darkness.  It leaves the two of them alone as Garrus keens softly, not knowing how he will be able to be the man his wife deserves, needs, if he is half a man himself.  

 

He isn't fooled into thinking that they ever truly will gain the rest they deserve, that the universe will no longer need ‘the Normandy and its Commander’.  All he can do now is to learn to be the man Jane needs, the soldier at her side that can only protect her as he can, with what his has, with what he will be given.  

 

Yet, there is some part of him that _knows_ they will climb up out of this, that their conditions are only a minor setback.  Both of them are stubborn to a fault, never giving up when, quite literally, even the galaxy was ending.  Nothing has ever been able to determine what they could or could not do, so what makes him think a few lost limbs between them will?

 

Will it be difficult?  Yes, but he knows with certainty that both will carry the other, literally and figuratively.  They have fought for their lives after the war and he’ll be damned if their injuries make it impossible to actually live what they earned and deserve.

  
“This isn’t the end, Jane,” he says to her sleeping form, squeezing her hand.  “We’ll get through this like always.”


	2. Chapter 2

-Garrus-

The bright light of the new day shines in to wake him when someone, rather rudely, opens the tent flap for entrance. He answers the entrance by growling in irritation at the glare and threat against anyone coming to do harm to either of them. It’s residual, he assumes, from their constant state of caution and danger that may not completely go away after everything they've been through.

“Easy, Garrus,” the voice of his father says with a soothing rumble.

“Dad?” He trills and stands from his bedside chair, the flimsy, uncomfortable thing. His father means his children are near and his children being near can mean that maybe, just maybe, their lives can start coming back together. All he needs is for his mate to sleep away the sedatives in her system.

Rushing to his father, he stops in his tracks with his eyes take in the little body in his arms. Eyes wide and vocals undulating from shock, to happiness, and back to disbelief, he reaches out with his only hand to their daughter, Cassia distinguishable from her brother because the lack of a fringe atop her head.

He purrs and smiles in complete joy as he cups her cheek, keening when she nuzzles back with a chirping squeal. “She remembers…”

“Of course they do,” his father assures with a warm rumble, pointedly not looking at Garrus’ wounds - probably having been warned by the Blue Suns doctors.

Just as he is about to ask where their other child is, Solana enters the now too cramped tent, Damocles in her arms. The baby immediately cries with a high pitched trill and clatter of his mandibles, hand reaching.

The joy in their faces is the best news he’s had since hearing his mate is alive, the horrors and pain in between washing away with the looks on their not to tiny faces. Huffing a weak, overwhelmed laugh, he takes his son’s hand, stepping close to press his forehead to one’s, then the other’s. “They’re so big. They’ve grown so much.”

“We’ve all missed you, Garrus,” Sol says as she leans in to nuzzle his cheek. His father takes Cassia to his hip and grips the younger man’s shoulder, pulling him closer and rumbling as he presses mandible to mandible.

When they part, his father asks with a look to the bed, “How is Jane?”

“Sleeping off the sedatives still. They say it might be a few days.”

“And they’re letting you stay here on something that can barely be called a stool? In your condition?” Sol trills in disbelief, looking around the tent before she scowls. “Are you even supposed to be out of bed yourself?”

He refuses to answer that, just as he refused to let anyone or anything drag him from from her side no matter what his supposed condition was or is. “I’m not leaving her,” he says instead as he contemplates how to hold one of his children with only a single arm.

He doesn’t pay attention to whatever reprimand his father gives as he steps closer to his sister and wraps his arm around his son in silent plea. She rumbles as she nods and helps Garrus get an arm around Damocles and hand under his rear as he takes him on his hip.

Smiling wide with a rumbling purr, Garrus nuzzles his head over the top of the barely formed fringe as he clicks and chirps in time with his child. “Hey, little guy. I’ve missed you and your sister.”

With son in had, he rumbles in question to his father as he motions the bed with his chin and heads to his wife. Even asleep, she deserves to be with them as much as he.

“You want to see mommy?” Damocles makes a whirring trill and he takes that as a yes, leaning over to gently help the little one onto his mother’s bed. Immediately, their son crawls up onto her chest and lays down, sending a sense of surprise through him. “He can crawl?” He asks with a trill.

His father chuckles and nods, handing over Cassia in the same manner that Sol had. “The challenge is getting them to stop crawling everywhere.”

Garrus smiles in pride, not too surprised that their children would be fast learners. Already, they are starting to prove themselves capable of getting into trouble. It’s alright, he assures them wordlessly with a loving purr and gentle nip of a kiss on his daughter’s scalp. If they were able to destroy the Reapers, than they can handle their twins, right?

“They’re so beautiful, Jane,” he says, as he has been since he woke and had to be practically dragged to her tent. “Just like you.”

His father smiles, but shakes his head with a slight rumble of admonishment. “I know you want to be here with her, but you’re just as injured as she is, Garrus. You should be resting in a bed, not in an old, half destroyed chair.”

“I won’t leave her.”

Titus sighs, making Sol glare at him for giving up so easily, and nods. “How about we compromise? You sleep in a bed and you can spend the days in here?”

He hums in thought at that and looks to his daughter. “What about Damocles and Cassia?”

“We can watch them in shifts,” His sister says with a smile, rumbling in pride at her great idea. “You probably aren’t going to sleep very long anyways, so we’ll tend to them while you do rest and another can help you-”

She stops and clamps her mandibles shut, ducking her head at the unintended reminder of his own injuries. Not faulting her for something he knows she didn’t mean in the way she now blames herself for, Garrus rumbles in reassurance. “I’d like the help, actually. Caring for twins was something Jane and I had to do together when they weren't crawling.”

To add to it, Cassia grips his mandible, making him chuckle, his voice slightly off with the lack of movement in his gripped mandible. “And I’ll apparently need help entertaining them now too.”

“We have some toys for them,” his father confirms with a nod and covers sleeping Damocles with Jane’s blanket, tucking him in on her chest. “It’s not much, but we were able to trade for them on the liveship.”

“What ship were you on?”

“The Aurora,” Sol answers for him as she starts to examine the medical equipment monitoring Jane’s sleep. “A big ship, but full of families. We traded the carrier and small clothes for some food which we then traded for the toys to a family whose children had grown bored of them.”

“Their clothes,” he says as he finally gets the chance to look Cassia over, seeing her outfit to really be an oversized child’s tunic pulled in and tied in places with scraps of extra fabric to resemble something passing for an outfit. Damocles in garbed in something very similar, though, at least, not in the reddish gold of his sister but a blue and green instead. “I assume they were traded too?”

“Actually, no. They were given to us by another woman when she saw that we were simply wrapping our own clothes around them to keep them warm.”

“It brings hope to see charity even now.” Garrus nods in agreement to his father’s words, not expecting there to be much in the way of giving now that the war has left so many without.

Still, it leaves one glaring, worrying question. One that he just has to know for the sake and safety of his family.

“Did anyone see their fingers? Or their toes?”

There is, at first, confusion, but soon realization of what he’s asking crosses their faces and his father shakes his head with a reassuring rumble. “No. We’ve given extra care to ensure that no one saw the signs of what make them yours and Jane’s.”

Sol snorts at that. “Everyone thought they were mine, in fact. Good news they have Jane’s beauty or we’d never have pulled that off,” she adds with a teasing smirk and Garrus chuckles.

“I owe you both for caring for them. I still don’t know what would have happened to the four of you on the Normandy.”

His father nods and hums in deep thought before saying, “We’ve heard that the human Alliance wants to hold a ceremony marking the end of the war and paying respects to those lost. Your crew, those that survived, are bound to be there. Last I’ve heard, only Liara knows of your survival.”

“Wait. You mean no one else knows we lived?”

When his father nods, he looks to his sister to get the same response before Titus explains. “When Arcanus and his men found Jane in her condition, we thought it was better to let the two of you decide your futures after the war.”

“So they went to find you. We don’t know how he managed to bring you here and fake your death, but you both are reported as KIA according to what Liara told us.” Sol frowns and paces a bit. “They invited dad in yours and Jane’s stead to the ceremony.”

“To which I’m going,” he says, gaining a confused look from Garrus that he needs to explain. “Garrus, suspicions will be raised if I do not go. Either they will believe that there was a strife amongst our family, that I have no pride in what you fought for, or that I might see no need to go for the dead. Either one leaves too many questions, too many possibilities that someone might start searching for answers.”

“You almost sound as paranoid as me,” Garrus jokes with a chuckle, wondering if that’s such a bad thing.

“I’ll accept that if it means that we can buy you and Jane more time hidden away from people who will most likely look to, what’s the term, drag your names through the mud? It’s easier to take their anger out on something close than to acknowledge their fears and loss from this war.”

Nodding in understanding, Garrus turns to his daughter and can’t help his smile. “I won’t stop you from going. I trust your judgement on this.” If that surprises his father, he doesn't see it with his full attention focused on seeing all the new changes to his daughter’s face.

Her mandibles are starting to show the the small spurs at the backs of her mandibles, the length that will grow as she gets older and closes on her womanhood. Her facial plates have started to grown together, filling in the gaps where her soft hide shows. Even her little teeth are starting to grow in, as illustrated by her harmless chewing at his too small, borrowed tunic.

The rain comes not long after his father leaves and sister takes to his tent to rest. With the heavy patter of drops leaden with ash and dirt from the war that leaves an odd smell in the air, Garrus leans against the bed to that he can help Cassia up to lay with her mother and he can free his arm to caress all of his most precious possessions.

He knows she would never accept it, but their daughter really does take after her mother, her features rounder, gentler, than any turian and vocals softer and less distinct from each other, as if one voice than can divide and come back together than the two separate vocals he hears in his son, that exists with every other turian.

Yet, in his son, he has to admit he sees himself. Be it pride or vanity, he hopes he sees strength in his son’s features, perhaps more than he’s had in his life. Garrus knows he will need it for the galaxy will not be a forgiving place, but one that will fight against him every step of the way, if not more than Garrus himself has had to endure because of their mixed blood.

He can’t even begin to imagine what their struggle will be like knowing that the very Galaxy will not accept their existence, that their very birth will be looked upon as a crime against nature. It will be hard, sure, but he knows there is nowhere else he and Jane would be besides holding their hands, leading them on their path through the strife.

Hours pass and he’s sure he spends some of those asleep with his head nuzzled up between their children on Jane’s chest. However, most of the hours he spends just watching them, catching them as they stray close to the edge with their crawling and talking to them about nothing at all, just letting them hear his voice after so long as he uses it to ground himself in the reality that they’re okay, they all made it through.

True, ‘okay’ might not be the term best used to describe his and Jane’s conditions, but they’re alive and, as far as the doctors have led him to believe, it is only their bodies with the scars. In all honesty, if he were to really let himself think of it, they came out of the war better than they planned, better than they expected.

What was that saying? ‘Plan for the worst so you’ll be pleasantly surprised’?

When night comes, and he can only tell it by the lessening of the voices passing outside the medical tent, the rain has started anew, pouring down on the tent roof in a staccato that sounds too close to gunfire for him to sleep. So he stays, not admitting to the fact that he wouldn’t have left as it was in case someone managed to walk in and read it off his features and begin an admonishment to the contrary, and watches the slow rise and fall of his mate’s chest as she lifts and lowers their children.

“You shouldn’t be up,” the voice of his father reprimands softly with a rumble as he enters the dark tent, his clothes smelling of the rain and ash. “But I expect you’d want to be here.”

His chuckle is gruff, tired from the day of waiting for his wife to awaken and still feeling the affects of his long time asleep, but never regretting a second he’s spent since waking. “Just like old times.” Hearing his father’s confused rumble as he draws closer, he explains. “Jane and I used to say it before every mission since every one always tended to go the same way.”

“Horribly?” Titus teases, seeming to understand, and the younger turian chuckles with a nod.

“That’s putting it lightly. But it meant more than that to us.” He finds his wife’s hand and links their fingers. “Through it all, I am with her, no matter what new trouble we find ourselves in. It’s been that way since we met.”

“So it was a reaffirmation.”

Garrus nods and squeezes her hand. “Even if she knows I’ll be there, it doesn’t hurt to say it.”

“No…it doesn’t,” her soft voice whispers and he nearly yelps in surprise, eyes wide as he looks to her.

“Jane?” He trills as he stands and leans closer to her, pressing his forehead to hers as he purrs. “You’re awake,” he whispers, as if needing to confirm it to himself.

She makes a noise that has to be a snort. “Good. Was gettin tired of the empty bar…”

He smiles and releases her hand to caress her face. “There’s a surprise for you.”

Seeing her confused look with eyes still have lidded in drowsiness, he motions his father to help him as he wraps an arm around Cassia and picks her up. His dad picks up Damocles and helps Jane sit up, her eyes widening as her mouth falls open in shock.

“Is this…”

He smiles and nods, offering Cassia. Let’s hope this happiness holds her attention long before I have to tell her.

“Yeah, this is them. Our children,” he says as Jane tenderly takes their daughter, kissing her on the forehead before each cheek and making the child emit a shrill scream of delight.

“Oh my God, they’re adorable!” She grins as he chuckles and takes the little girl into one arm, motioning for their son too. “Gimme, gimme!”

His father helps get their son into her free hand and Garrus takes it as the perfect chance to shift to further block his missing side, wanting to keep it out of sight for as long as possible and ride that crest of amazement before her own state falls into place. A silent thanks goes to his dad for shifting the pillows behind her to make up for her possible lack of balance without her lower legs, of which he isn’t sure if she feels that ‘phantom limb’ like he has been plagued with.

He can’t pull himself to imagine what the news will do to her good mood as she grins widely and makes the softest sounds of awe and love to their children in her arms. When she looks to him with the warmest smile, he smiles back and bites back the horrid keen at having to be the one to destroy that happiness with what they’ve become.

That time comes all too soon for them when she slowly starts to take in the room and frowns at the obviously different feeling within her own body. He can see understanding wash over her before she looks to him and examines his own state, her eyes widening as her expression falls.

“Dad,” Garrus says as she clenches her eyes shut, the salty smell of tears cutting through the air. “Check on Sol?”

Though it’s addressed as a question, his father understands it as what it is and steps out, giving them the privacy they’ll need to fully understand their new bodies.

Looking to her, he sighs and says, “I can tell you’ve already started piecing it together…”

She sniffs and opens her eyes, wet with tears as she holds their children tighter to her sides, taking her strength from them. He doesn’t blame her. “I could guess I’ve been asleep… But my body feels…wrong too.”

Of course she’d pick up on the worst of it and he sits beside her, keeping his body turned from her but moving his head to look at her, to take her hand in his only one. “We were hurt bad, Jane. You were pinned beneath the rubble on the Citadel.” Squeezing her hand, he decides it just best to say it, his mate never one to lighten the weight of whatever she had to say with soft, kind words so he wouldn’t be the one to do it to her.

“They had to remove your legs from mid thigh down,” he says softly with a keen and watches her expression go professionally blank, she turning to the Commander for strength.

“I…,” She stops and her mouth opens and closes for a few moments as she goes still. “They took my legs,” she whispers and he nods with a frown.

“I’m sorry, Jane.”

She is silent for a moment before barking a very dry, humorless laugh. “Guess we have no choice but to retire. Figures I’d go down by a fucking space station.” As he nods, her brows quirk in thought and she squeezes his hand. “The dreams. With the bar… Our limbs went numb. My legs, your…” Her head snaps to him and eyes widen with realization. “Your…”

Rumbling sadly that she had to find out so quickly, that she has to worry about him too, he turns to show his entire damaged left side and hears her gasp, her arms twitching around their children as if she could suddenly grow another to reach out. “It was all they could do to get me out from under the Mako.”

Helping her lay the children on the bed where her legs should be, he helps her free her hands so she can touch over his scarred side. Her fingers rung over ropey, burned flesh and plates, mapping all new scars as she cries and presses her forehead to his chest.

“I’m so sorry, Garrus… I wasn’t fast enough, strong enough.”

“Jane. We lived.” He cups her head and presses his forehead to hers. “I know it’ll be hard, but we can get through this.” Wanting to help her, he smiles weakly. “And now we finally get the retirement we’ve always wanted.”

Her eyes are still pain and tears roll down her cheeks, but she gasps a single chuckle before nodding, her lips finding way to his mouth plates as she speaks. “We’ve earned it.”

 

 


	3. Chapter 3

-Jane-

Her _legs_ were gone, just… gone.

For only the second time in her life, she felt truly and entirely at the mercy of the universe - and that first time resulted in her death suffocating adrift among the stars. So, understandably, she was less than happy to be in such a position.

Hell, she was in a struggle between outright anger and despair.

What was she to do? Rely on others to carry her through her life she fought so hard for? How could she do that to her husband who wasn't much better than she was?

"Fuck," she whispers as she leans back against the pillows, at least outwardly calmed by the presence of their infant children currently napping with their heads in her 'lap'. "What am I going to do now?"

"Same as we always do." Garrus shoulders into the tent with a tattered bag in hand, as if hearing her self-consciousness from wherever in the camp he was. "Jane," he says with a frown as he comes to her and presses his forehead to hers. "This is just a little bump in the road."

She snorts dismissively. "How can you be so confident?"

"You think I don't hate that I can't be there for you, for our children, with my whole body? I know it's not the same as losing both of your legs, but I have to fight not to fall into the pit of self-hate for not being able to take care of my mate and children in a way that I once could." Sighing, he sets the bag down and cups her cheek with a soothing rumble. "We survived a war neither of us believed we were coming out of, we have our children and each other. For what it's worth, I think that's pretty damn good considering."

She closes her eyes as she chuckles, shaking her head. "Leave it to the ending the war for you to gain some optimism."

Shrugging, he caresses her cheek before pulling back to grab the bag at his feet. "I think we earned some happiness after everything we've been through."

"It _was_ some awful shit," she agrees as he sets the bag on the bed beside her. "What's this?"

"Some things for the kids." Rumbling in curiosity, he reaches in and pulls out a small toy.

"A stuffed varren?" she asks in surprise, looking at their children. "Guess one of them is like their mommy."

"And that's the _only_ kind of varren we're getting. Could you imaging Urz around them?" He shakes his head as she chuckles, placing the toy between their children so they can cuddle up against it in their sleep.

"I bet he'd be the lovable giant. Like Grunt and Wrex."

"I'll be sure to let them know you compared them to a varren," he deadpans as he pulls out a bundle of what looks like fabric pieces all secured together, shapes and colors on their surfaces.

"What's that?"

Humming as he looks through the flaps of fabrics, he smiles. "A book in Standard." Garrus chuckles as he shows her a 'page' with the image of a red square, reading as he points. "'This is a _red_ _square_."

She chuckles and smiles, holding out her hand to get a look at it and flipping through the soft pages of shapes and colors. "Guess there will be a genius in the family yet."

"Ouch."

With a snort in response, she lays the book on the empty bed that feet that don't exist will never take up again and peeks into the bag around his hands. "Anything else?"

"Looks like some food rations that dad saved up in case they ran out and some of the things they outgrew." A few sets of old clothes are removed as further explanation. "That's pretty much all that made it out."

"Not much," she says with a frown. "Fuck. What a childhood, huh?"

It's times like these she wonders if having their children in the middle of a war was really the smartest idea they've ever had. What is the real cost of it but Damocles and Cassia's possible happiness and chance to be nothing but a growing child enjoying their life? Do they deserve to grow up through the galaxy rebuilding itself?

"Hey." A gentle cup of her chin lifts her eyes to her mate, still as handsome as she's ever seen him, as he will always be no matter the wounds or scars. "We can make up for it now."

She nods and leans into his hand as he kisses her, her hand coming up to caress his unscarred cheek. "I'm going to spoil these little bastards until they _beg_ me to stop."

"Make that two of us, then," he responds with a chucking rumble, looking to them as they start to awaken. "Looks like they know when they're being talked about."

Two sets of big blue eyes look up to them as their children roll up onto their stomachs and start to make needy, clicking grunts and trills, hands banging lightly against the bed. Both parents chuckle as Garrus wraps his arm around Damocles, already skilled at handling the babies with a single arm and his strength alone, and Jane picks up their daughter.

"Heard us talking, huh?" Cassia chirps and nuzzles under her chin, oblivious to the meaning of the words, focusing only on the sound of the long lost voice of her mother.

Damocles starts to mouth her husband's hide as he takes a seat on the bed beside her and reaches for the toys, picking up first the book. "Let's see who this belongs to."

When he offers it to their son, all he gets is a whir of annoyance as Damocles turns away and back to his wonderful mouthing toy that he's found in his father. So, that leaves only one choice, and, taking the book from him, Jane offers it to their curious daughter.

Immediately, Cassia grabs for it and begins to chew on it's faded fabric. Jane smiles at the sight and hears her husband emit a loving purr, the two proud of their children's growth over the months they were forced apart.

"Now we see how these toys got so battered," Garrus says as he offer the varren for their son to hold and gnaw on uselessly with his teeth that have barely begun to form under the gums. "It'll be a chore just trying to keep them clean."

They both chuckle as she nods in agreement, letting their daughter grip a finger in her tiny hand. "Garrus?" She looks up at him and smiles. "I don't want to be Commander Shepard anymore. I want to just be me."

His smile is warm and vocals sweet as he nods back as he leans over to kiss her gently with a slight nip against her lips. "Let the galaxy think we're dead?" At her chuckle, he touches their foreheads together. "We'll live for only ourselves."

"Dammit, I want out of this damn bed so bad," she whispers as she rubs her head to his. "I hate being immobile for so long."

"Jane," he says with amusement laced through his voice. "You've only been awake for a few days."

Time was hard to tell trapped in a tent, in a bed, but she _knew_ it's been days. Hell, at this rate, she could swear it was closer to weeks she was stuck with nothing but her stumps staring her back in the face.

Speaking of, she still hasn't had the heart to look at them. The scarring from burns over her right shoulder and upper arm she could handle, expecting worse and actually surprised at their half-decent state. _Guess surviving a Maw attack with an entire back of scars helps see things in perspective._

Yet, even squeezed in beside Garrus in the bed, she couldn't bear to look at her missing legs, to even _look_ at them. She knew they weren't there, knew it every time she moved her body up onto the pillows and felt how much lighter she was and with every caress from her mate as he tried to soothe her, but _she_ couldn't stomach to do it herself.

Was she afraid that acknowledging it would make it truly real? Or was her resistance much like Garrus' own refusal to touch his own left side? Were they two broken soldiers trying to use the other to climb up out of the despair by gradually getting used to the other's acceptance before finally coming to terms themselves?

"I _need_ out of this damn tent, Garrus." She starts to cry from frustration, overwhelmed from everything that's happened these last few days. "Fucking… stupid-" His gentle purr helps to soothe her, but she still holds that anger over herself. "I don't know why I can't keep down the fucking waterworks."

"I've keened a few times too, Jane." He frowns and nuzzles his face against her cheek in lieu of putting down their child to properly touch her as the two of them seem, selfishly, to need their children and anchors. "I know it's not going to be easy, but we aren't alone. We have each other."

She chuckles and lays her head against his. "We'll make something whole out of all the pieces?"

"Exactly."

Whatever he was going to say next is cut off as the tent opens and an asari in Blue Suns BDUs steps in. "Vakarian?" At the nods, he continues. "My name is doctor Shri'ari. I'm the one who will be assisting you with your artificial limbs."

"You mean… As in we'll be getting them soon?" Jane looks to her mate in confusion before back to the woman. "Serious?"

The doctor smiles and nods, motioning with a hand in 'may I come in'. At their shared nods, she comes in and closes the flap, throwing them back into the dark. "As ordered by my superior under orders from the very top, we have already helped the two of you undergo the process while you slept."

"What does this 'process' entail?" Garrus asks with a hum as Cassia flaps her book in the air and Jane eases her quiet with her hands and a soft, soothing 'shh'.

"The both of you have already healed completely, as I've had the chance to examine you both before you awoke. If you'll let me, I'd like to give you one last exam before we can talk about what it all means?"

The two are hesitant, never having anyone but the other touch their bare wounds while conscious. A silent conversation occurs between them of asking the other if it's okay, if they can handle it, before, finally, 'can we get the babies out of here while we do this'.

With a sigh, Garrus nods to the doctor. "Give us a moment." The woman nods with a smile and crosses her arms behind her back as Garrus passes her, returning a moment later with his sister.

"Alright, you two," Solana says with a soft purr as she takes Cassia up from Jane's lap, then taking Damocles. "Time for you to come see aunty Sol." She gives both parents a smile before carrying the young ones out, giving them privacy.

"I guess I might as well go first," Jane grinds out as she closes her eyes and pulls the blanket up and off. "Just get it the fuck over with."

A warm, three fingered hand cups her opposite cheek to pull her against him as he purrs and rumbles. Soon, she feels the soft, touch of five fingered hands searching and examining. They don't linger for long wherever they touch and, with Garrus' calming touch, Jane can ease her eyes open to watch.

Despite their sudden stop mid-way down her thigh, there isn't a bloody damn stump like her mind was envisioning, pulsing and writhing with maggots. No, what lies at the new end of her legs is just a rounded… stop, pale and almost as if it were her knee without anything below. _Not to mention that a knee wouldn't exist halfway up the meet of a thigh…_

Seeming to feel her discomfort, the doctor pulls away with a smile. "Very good, Jane. You're doing very well. You're weave has settled in nicely."

"Weave?" Garrus rumbles in question as Jane helps him unbutton and push his tunic aside for his examination. "Weave for what?"

When Shri'ari reaches for him, he flinches and unconsciously backs away. She doesn't force it and stops, waiting as Jane helps ease his own discomfort as he had hers.

Reaching for his hand, they link fingers and she gently pulls him to sit beside her on the bed. "It's okay," she softly whispers for only him to hear, feeling his tensed form vibrating in agitation. "I'm here."

Jane wraps her arms around his waist and leans on his back as she hums a tune he probably doesn't even know into his plates. His tension starts to gradually ease, shoulders and back loosen, and he looks to the woman with a nod, close enough to calm to do this.

In a way much like her own examination, the doctor doesn't still on one area for too long as she explains. "I was told to get the best in artificial limb tech as was available after the war and we found a facility on Noveria that has developed limbs that can respond directly to nerve impulses as if they were actual limbs." She steps back with a smile and he and Jane start to redress him. "It's done using a nerve weave implanted within the skin. When you receive your limbs, you merely think as you would when, say, lifting your arm or flexing your knee and it will react."

"So… like a cloned limb, but robotic?" Jane lifts a brow in intrigue, wondering if this will speed their recovering.

"Yes. Exactly." She opens her tool and spins the readouts to face them. "As you can see, it is the closest thing to a real limb this galaxy has developed."

All is quiet at they look over the readouts, then Garrus hums in thought. "How much was this tech? It can't have been cheap."

"It wasn't." Arcanus steps into the tent, arms behind his back. "But you have friends in high places," he adds with a pointed look and Jane wonders just who Liara had to coerce or bribe to get it.

"When do we start using them?" She would be bouncing if she didn't have such tight control over herself, the _need_ to finally on feet, whatever they may be made out of, so strong it hurts.

"Well," the doctor moves her Omni-Tool's readout around and types in a command. "We've been waiting since you've arrived and had the weave surgery, so I believe they should arrive soon."

"The benefit of private transports," Arcanus adds as he looks to Doctor Shri'ari. "Thank you, doctor."

Dismissed, she leaves them alone, stepping out of the tent and into the, once again, cloudy day that smells of rain. He then looks to them and examines their room and toys left behind on the bed. "I am curious as to what your plans are."

"To what end?" Garrus lifts a brow with a whisper of a growl. "Are you planning on holding this help over us?"

"It is good to see your paranoia never quite faded, Archange," the merc says with a slight chuckle. "And your answer is 'no'. I meant what I said with this being a friend helping friends that just happened to save the galaxy. The reason I ask is because… I would like to offer you both jobs should you find retirement not quite to your liking."

Jane snorts and fights her laugh. "We spend three years fighting mercs and you're asking us to _be_ them?"

"Not exactly. You would be freelancers, no relation or connection to the Blue Suns should you chose. On top of that, you would have free reign to approve or disprove any job you take on." He walks closer to them and rumbles. "Your governments have demanded from you, but I do not see either of you completely stepping away from battle, not yet. This is merely an offer for you to fight for what _you_ choose."

Garrus looks to her over his shoulder and she shrugs. Is that really a decision for now, anyways?

"I do not expect a decision now or even anytime soon," Arcanus says as he heads to the tent flap. "Think it over, is all I ask."

He leaves them in the dark tent, her arms around her mate as she hugs him, cheek against his back. It's like that that she can feel and hear when he starts to chuckle.

"Archangel as a mercenary…"

She can't help it and chuckles too at that. "What travesty," she says with a mock sense of disbelief, hearing him snort.

"Still, I have to admit that, if we can choose what jobs we take, it might be a perfect retirement." He hums and reaches an unsteady hand to his shoulder, touching his missing limb for the first time since she's been awake. "If we can manage it, I think we should think about finally being our own superiors."

"Going rogue?" She smirks and slides her hand under his. "Saren would be proud."

He barks a laugh and looks back at her. "Funny. I heard you thought he was a, what did you call him?"

"Prick?"

"That's the nicest thing you've ever said about him," he says with a playfully nip at her cheek.

"Us, freelancers…" She thinks and chuckles at the thought. "You know, if we play it right, we could bring Archangel back. We just need to ignore the Blue Suns."

"I'm alright with still keeping them in line."

Brow raised, she smirks. "Plan on straining our relationship with Arcanus."

He shrugs, soon smirking. "If they don't do anything 'unbecoming' in front of me, then we won't have problems."


	4. Chapter 4

-Garrus-

It's another few days before Doctor Shri'ari returns to their tent when they are alone - the babies being taken out for the first sun in weeks - with news, both good and irritating.

"What do you mean we can't have the limbs yet," Jane snarls with a scowl. "You said-"

"Actually, I confirmed that they were on their way, but I never said that the integration process was complete." Before they can get past a scowl from her and low growl of frustration from him, she continues. "We have one more step before we can begin the physical therapy portion of your healing. As I'm sure you're aware, this is a long process."

"Just tell us what's next," Jane says with a sigh, finding his hand on her lap and squeezing. "What do we have to do before we can finally start trying to use them?"

"You have one more surgery we need to perform in order to install and connect the outlet port for your prosthetics." At his confused rumble and Jane's frown in both question and misunderstanding, the doctor hands over a datapad with a blueprint of a human leg that separates from a sort of base, flat on one side with a concave cavity on the other.

"The design is quite ingenious," Doctor Shri'ari says. "We will perform a surgery to secure it in place. For you, sir, it will also as as the socket for the ball and socket joint of your missing shoulder. And for you, ma'am, it will provide a separate cushioning and stress relieving system aside from your actual prosthetic, aiding in returning you to a state of functionality close to what you were used to."

"And that's permanent?" Garrus asks and she nods.

"Until you decide to replace it with a cloned limb, yes."

"I don't think we ever will," his wife chuckles as she looks to him. "We have a bad track record with clones."

He chuckles, imagining his own arm trying to strangle him or something of the like. Fantastical, perhaps, but a thought he will share with her later for a good laugh, something they haven't managed to get enough as quickly as they'd like.

"I see," the doctor smiles, one more person that enjoys seeing that small spark of happiness from her patients and galaxy's saviors. "Well, then I guess you'll really enjoy some of the other features of these prosthetics." She moves closer and taps a few commands on the datapad. "The port allows for removal and reattachment of the limb for easy maintenance. It also connects to the neural weave, creating the link between flesh and bionics. It will act as a buffer to limit over sensitivity and phantom pain as well as ensure that you don't feel pain each and every time you take off and put on your new limbs from the nerves and circuitry connecting."

Nodding in understanding, he looks to Jane to see in her eyes if she has any further concerns or questions. It _sounds_ pretty straight forward, even if he doesn't completely understand the how of the connection. He just wants his functionality back and his wife to have her mobility, for both hers and his own sanity - he'll admit he's getting his workout trying to keep her from just crawling her way out of bed.

"I guess the big question is how long will it be between the surgery and finally being able to start physical therapy?"

Jane nods in agreement to his inquiry as the doctor chuckles at their impatience. "Well, we'd like to give your bodies at least six weeks to heal from the surgery before finally connecting the limbs. Once that's done, however, we can start immediately."

His mate exhales a soft gasp of excitement as he squeezes her hand in agreeing.

 _Six weeks_. Only six weeks until they can begin the, knowingly, long journey of rehabilitation and accumulation to their bodies. It won't be easy to push their bodies, and it'll be a battle very different from what they're used to, but they can do this. If they've faced down Reapers and come out on top, then they can force their own bodies into submission.

"Holy shit… I want this surgery yesterday."

Shri'ari nods and opens her Tool, typing. "I can get Garrus in first, perhaps later this afternoon, and Jane in either the morning or late tonight."

She looks up to them and Garrus looks to his wife, a silent question and conversation running between them of excitement and decisions. Finally, she nods with a smile and he turns back to answer. "We want it all done as soon and efficiently as possible. If you can do both tonight, we want it done tonight."

"I'll alert the other surgeons in the camp," the woman says with a curt nod and quirk of her lips in amusement. "If you have no further questions?" They each shake their heads, perhaps a bit impatiently. "Very well. I'll see to getting everything prepped."

She leaves them as his father and sister return, children in their arms. Damocles has his varren in his mouth, head currently falling victim to the infant's teething as Cassia's grips and examines her grandfather's tunic with curiosity.

At the sight of them, Jane grins and holds her hands out. "There are my adorable little shits!" Her fingers grip at the air in a 'grabbing hands' gesture that is almost uncannily similar to their own children's.

As Sol hands over their son, Garrus' father looks to him man offers their now trilling and chirping daughter, her feet kicking happily at being given to her father. "I thought that was a derogatory term?"

"It is, dad. Jane means well."

"Because only these little tiny ones could be as cute as their dad, the big shit," Jane says in that high, babbling tone she takes when playing with their children without looking up from their son as she tickles his waist.

Damocles giggles and kicks at the tickling, making the room laugh before Solana turns to her brother. "We met your doctor on the way out. News on your limbs?"

Jane nods as she kisses their son on the head and helps him up onto his feet, holding him up to get used to the feeling. "Yeah, but we need another surgery before we can actually _use_ them." She sighs and scowls. "I swear, getting back on my feet is taking too fucking long."

Garrus chuckles and goes to the bed to sit beside her, letting Cassia sit up and chew on her book with a purring rumble. "We'll get there. Just one surgery and six weeks before we're there."

She snorts and shakes her head. "Give me four weeks and I'll be on those damn legs."

"It'll be good to see you back on your feet, Jane," Sol agrees with a rumbling smile. "Say, we were thinking of heading to the Mess tent to grab some rations. Would you like us to get you some?"

"Actually," Jane looks to him with a smile. "I think Garrus should go."

"Me?" His head jerks in surprise and he rumbles in confusion, asking, "Why me?"

"Garrus. Just because I can't get some sun doesn't mean I want you to stay cooped up in here with me-" She gasps, interrupting herself, and motions Sol near. "Watch the babies for us?"

"Uh… okay. Where are you going?" Ignoring his sister's confusion, Garrus goes to the bed with the knowledge of what his mate wants. "Anybody mind telling me what's happening?"

"I'm taking Jane with me," Garrus says as he and Jane lift the blankets off what remains of her legs.

He ignores the concerned rumble from his father and drawn out sigh of understanding from his sister, instead focusing on helping his mate wrap her arms around his neck. When he stands up, he cradles her rear with his arm and bounces her a bit to shift and balance out her weight.

The fit is definitely different from what they're used too, both of them limited in what they can do, but it still feels so right, so at home. Sure, he would have chosen the old way, but he can at least say that it won't be very long before they return to what they're used to.

Still, this close way of caring her, pressed together without the prospect of a sex they are still too self-conscious and weak for, has it's own special sensation. It's so close, so intimate, that he may just find new ways to get her to let him carry her now without the need to do it to get out of enemy fire. _And even then, I was too preoccupied to actually enjoy the comfort of the proximity._

"This feels weird," he hears her say with a hint of amusement in her voice. "I mean, your hips are a perfect little shelf for me now, but if you start carrying me like the kids, I'm going to hurt you."

He laughs and nuzzles her cheek. "You kind of already look like one being held like this." He gets a glare at that one. "What? Want to switch with you on my back? Think your arms can do it?"

"I'll have you know I beat _Vega_ in a pull-up competition."

"Now we know why you couldn't lift your arms above your head," he deadpans as they enter the tent being used as a Mess and stops at an empty bench nearest the door. "Alright, let's try this the other way." With a kneel onto one knee, he sets her down on the bench and turns, offering his back.

"Damn… Your back is really rounded," she sighs trying to wrap her arms around his cowl and pulls herself closer. "I don't… Fuck."

"Easy, it's okay," he soothes with a rumbling purr, reaching back to push her rear closer. That gives her the chance to lay her thighs in the concave curve of his hips and her grip grows strong as she gets herself comfortable.

Chuckling at her wiggling, he stands and carries her with a light hand under her to make sure that, if she begins to slip, he won't have to rely on her pride letting her ask for help. This way, he can subtly help her with staying up without making her acknowledge that she can't do it alone.

They need to be able to help the other without needing to ask for it, even if that means reading the other when they don't think they're being observed. He's caught her doing it for him when trying to tend to the children and he will do it for her now.

Looks of surprise and disbelief follow them as they walk through the crowd of the Mess towards the armored Mess Sergeant, an angry looking batarian with a jagged scar from ear to chin along the curve of his jaw. Seeing them approach, his four eyes widen in shock as he stops handing out rations to the mercs before and goes straight for them in the line.

"Praetor Garrus Vakarian and Commander Jane Shepard, right?" he asks with a, surprisingly, voice much softer than his appearance would have one believe.

Still too long fighting these very people to feel entirely comfortable around mercs, Garrus bites his tongue to hide his growl, but doesn't lighten his words as he says, "Yeah? What of it?"

"Whoa," he throws up his hands in placating manner. "I don't mean anything by it. Just wanted to thank you."

"Thank us?" Jane peeks out around his shoulder. "For what?"

"Without you guys, we'd all be dead. Even if we're supposed to keep the news secret about you both, that hasn't stopped everyone around the galaxy saying of how you saved the galaxy. You and the whole Normandy." Others nod in agreement and a slight mumble goes through the crowd. "We know you just want to be left alone, but know that there are people who respect the shit you did." The man motions to one of the men helping to hand out food before looking back. "How many rations you need?"

"Enough to feed four."

They still have enough food for the children, so they don't yet have to resort to chewing up rations and mouth feeding. Better to save the 'bird' jokes that'll come from Jane until the last possible moment.

The man nods and looks to one of the mercs handing out food, holding up four fingers. Not a moment later, four boxed rations are tossed over a crowd that doesn't even try to grab for it. _Perhaps_ , Garrus thinks as the man tries to find a way to hand them over and decides to just stuff them into the too tight and torn civvies Garrus is wearing, _even, at least, this group of mercs can put aside their greed and self-centered mentality when face-to-face with those who suffered being the symbols of the war effort._

 _We certainly gave enough to win this damn war_ , he adds to himself as he nods in thanks and turns to leave. Every face is above that glaring blue armor or BDUs and it's a struggle with his inner self to combat the want to finally rest and the memories of all the battles and anger he had for this very merc company. How many of them are from Omega? How many are people who had wanted Archangel's head on a spike?

"Hey," his mate's soft, soothing voice pulls him out of his thoughts as she nuzzles against his back. "It's okay."

Her words, as if she knew when to speak to pull him out of his own head - and she may very well _know_ the likes of what he was thinking - help to move him through the crowd and soothe the rage built up from the years on Omega that returned at the sight of so much blue and white. He might never get rid of Archangel and his hate, but he can learn to not search out a fight.

He has, after all, promised himself, his mate, and unknowing children that they will finally be able to live the lives they deserves and it all starts with the two of them not actively _looking_ for a fight.

"You're thinking about Omega, aren't you?" she asks from behind him and he nods. "Archangel showing through? Figured he didn't make it out of the war."

"He did," he says, knowing that there's no real division between himself and who he was on Omega for they are both _him_ , both what he made of himself. "And yes, I was thinking about Omega and how I still can't believe that, after everything, we've found our peace in a Blue Suns' camp."

"Well, I'm sure we never thought we'd work with an assassin, a bounty hunter, a Justicar, an AI, the Shadow Broker, a Geth-"

"I get it." He chuckles and looks back to her, craning his neck to press his forehead to hers. "And I won't start anything, don't worry." Hearing her mock gasp in shock, he flicks his mandible in expectation for what will come out of her mouth.

"You mean _Archangel_ is going to rein it in?" she whispers over his shoulder. "Blasphemy."

His snort is heard by the occupants of their tent as he walks them in, stopping to see who the new shape belongs to. "Doctor," he says with a nod in greeting, hand gripping his wife - yes, her rear, but he can't really grip anything else right now - and feeling her hands tighten on him in shared anticipation. "It is time?"

Doctor Shri'ari nods and smiles. "Are you ready, sir?"

"Yeah. Let me just put Jane-"

"I also must insist neither of you eat." She offer a sympathetic frown. "It's for your own safety, I assure you."

Jane groans, but his response is much more controlled as a simple nod and sigh. The food did sound appealing since getting meals was so scarce around this camp, but the prospect of getting closer to his arm is even more appealing _and_ he can always eat afterwards with Jane as celebration.

Prepping for surgery is not an experience he's used to, or very comfortable with. Not only does he have to convince himself it's okay to fall into a drug-induced unconsciousness, but he struggles to stay completely still as doctors and masked medics surround and block out the lights of the sterile medical tent. His only view is of them walking around and the ceiling, his orders to be still while completely still while they prepare him for his surgery.

Out of the side of his eye, he catches a glimpse of the, from his place, massive piece of equipment that they will attach to his body. Although, now that he takes a moment to consider his condition, he supposes it _would_ take quite a bit of machinery to replace an arm missing all the way past his shoulder and flush to his side.

"Praetor Vakarian?" One of the doctors leans over him, a breathing mask in his hand. "We're about to begin. Are you ready?"

"It's Garrus," he answers, figuring that, if they're going to be cutting him open and seeing the inside of him, they might as well know him on a first name basis.

The doctor chuckles behind his mask and nods. "Very well. Garrus, are you ready?"

"The sooner the better." He grows with a joyous grin as the man nods and places the mask over his mouth and nose.

"Breathe deep and count for me from ten to one."

Garrus takes a lungful of the air that smells of the clean plastic of the mask, starting to count. "Ten. Nine. Eight…" He doesn't get far before everything just seems to drop out around him, consciousness fading along with the bright light of the surgical tent.

* * *

He immediately knows something is wrong before he opens his eyes.

The smell of this place is wrong, antiseptic and clean, recycled air. None of that dust, ashen air constantly heavy with the threat of rain wraps around him, but what really tells him something is wrong is the complete lack of the scent of him and Jane on the bed - the mercs in the camp knowing since the day he woke that they wouldn't sleep anywhere but with each other.

"Jane?" he says with a groggily trill as he opens his eyes.

They widen in shock at what lies around him. He doesn't see the dark tent with its patched together canvas and medical equipment that had managed to barely make it through the war, but the clean, sterile walls of an actual hospital room.

Trying to get up, he stumbles from the anesthesia, falling to his knees and, then, chest. The tumble ends in a roar in rage and panic echoed by the glaring alarms of the monitoring machines he's dragged down with him and rushing in of booted feet.

"Praetor Vakarian." "Sir!" "You need to calm down!"

All voices surround him as technicians and nurses rush in, trying to help him to his unsteady feet. They only get a rough shove away from him in thanks as he growls threatening and snarls, "Where is she?!"

It's at his demand that the doors open to admit a very familiar face, one that Garrus has, over the years, come to despise for not the man personally, but for what he represents. At the sight of this man, Garrus has even more questions, but one solid, horrible truth that cuts through them all.

"Praetor Vakarian," Admiral Hackett addresses with a lift of his chin. "You and Commander Shepard are both aboard the Alliance's SSV Berlin."


	5. Chapter 5

-Jane-

 

Her eyes snap open at the sound of a roar, but it isn’t just _any_ roar.  Oh no, she knows that anger, that rage that reverberates in her very bones.

 

_Garrus._

 

That concerns her.  Why would he be angry, and not just any kind of anger but a rage that gets his vocals clashing off the other, combining into a monstrous clamor of sound that would send trembles down any lesser man’s spine?  And, more importantly, why does he sound so damn far away?

 

“Garr...rus?”  Her voice trails off as she looks around, her surroundings not right.  

 

Hell, _everything_ isn’t right, from the fact that she’s in an entirely new - and much cleaner - place to the fact that the same man most likely tearing this place to shreds with his one arm at this very moment is missing from her side.  Sure, she at least knows he’s close by his sound, but that isn’t helping.

 

“Holy shit… The kids!”  

 

Realization hits her hard.  Wherever she is is definitely, without a doubt, someplace belonging to either someone or _someones_ with a lot of backing and _not_ somewhere she sees her in-laws just waltzing into with two infants in their arms.  There’s just something that tells her that, no matter what kind words are said, a place like this - wherever she is - wouldn’t just take their word stating their weren’t just refugees looking for shelter.

 

“Fuck, fuck, fuck…”  

 

Not sure what she’s going to do but knowing she has to do _something,_ dammit, she rips the too soft after having been used to coarser at the camp sheets off.  There’s a railing on this bed, meaning she must be in some real type of hospital - which is worse than the mercs for all too many reasons - and she uses it to pull herself up and over the side.

 

Perhaps, she thinks as she crashes to the floor in a heap, falling out of bed wasn’t the best first choice in figuring out where she is, but, fuck it, she’s going to find her husband and her babies _now._ Grunting as she pushes herself up and ignores the pain from the fall, she looks around the room for any clue of where she is, ignoring the blaring alarms in warning from the machines attached to her.

 

“Fucking pieces of shit,” she curses in a whisper as she just rips out the IV and yanks off the sensors on her skin, starting to drag her body across the floor with her forearms.

 

She makes it halfway from the bed to the door before it swings open and doctors, wide-eyed in shock, rush in to stop and subdue her.  “Commander Shepard!”  “You should be in bed!”  “You’ve just had surgery!”

 

On and on their voices ring in her ears and all she can think is one thing, _shit, they know who I am.  So much for our retirement in anonymity…_

 

“Get the fuck off me, dammit!” She shouts as she pulls her arms from their grasp, throwing a weak biotic push their way and sending them back.  “I want my mate!”   _Best to hold off the ‘children’ in that until I know where the fuck they even are._

 

She now knows why Garrus was apparently in the state she heard him in as she’s in much the same, screaming and thrashing in arms that try to hold her, try to stop Commander Fucking Shepard.   _How_ **_dare_** _they_ , she thinks, _I saved the whole God damn galaxy, so get the fuck out of my way and let me go!  I deserve to be left alone!_

 

“Commander Shepard.”  She knows that voice, a small part in her that remains from long ago training still wanting to stand up tall and at attention, but she can’t say that she’s all too happy to hear it now.  

 

“Admiral Hackett,” she nearly snarls, scowling up at him from the floor.  “Mind telling me where the fuck I am?”

 

Though she already figured it out, regretfully, there was still a part of her that wished it wasn’t true, that the Alliance, the _Galaxy,_ hadn’t found them.  Here they were, trying to get into a semblance of normal when they were dragged back, their nails dug in so deep in the ground that she could feel her fingers scraped raw from the futile struggle.   _Who said the hero gets their happily ever after clearly was full of shit._

 

If the man is affected by her spiteful words, he doesn’t show it, and, instead, simply takes a parade rest as he answers.  “You are aboard the SSV Berlin, an Alliance medical vessel.”

 

“Yeah.  And how the hell did we get here?  Where’s my husband?”

 

It’s then that she notices how the Admiral holds his head a bit too high for calm professionalism, or at least at a height that she’s used to seeing from him, and that piques her interest, her curiosity.  Taking a closer look at his face to see what he’s hiding or trying to hide, she notices the forming blossom of red.  That can only mean one very surprising - though not _too_ surprising - thing.

 

A suspicion that’s further fueled when Hackett merely says, “Praetor Vakarian has been detained in his room until he is more cooperative.”

 

 _Garrus, you dirty bastard…_ She hides her smirk and disappointment at not getting to see her mate cold clock an Admiral in the jaw and, instead, looks up to him with a neutral expression.  “What about how we got here?  How did you know our location?”

 

“One of the Blue Suns passed along the information.”

 

She _knows_ it wouldn’t be Arcanus, it just wouldn’t make sense.  A merc he may be, but never a man who’d say one thing and do another.  As strange as that sort of honor among mercenaries is, the man wasn’t typical in both the way he ran his company or the way in which he dealt with the two of them.  Hell, if anything, fighting and nearly dying together on quite a few occasions also has its own way of building trust.

 

_So, if not the leader, then one of the other mercs in the camp.  Just fucking great._

 

She exhales heavily in frustration as she looks back up to the Admiral.  “I want to see my mate.”

 

“I’m afraid you can’t-”

 

“Either you take me to him or you get the hell out of my way so I can crawl there,” she interrupts with a defiant scowl, no longer fearful of formal reprimand.  Nothing they can do to her, she figures, is worse than what she’s already been put through.  “Either way, I’m going to be with my husband.”

 

In one of the first instances where she must have caught the main off guard, Hackett actually raises a brow.  She takes it as a challenge, glaring up at him as she starts to, slowly, pull herself towards the door, at least seeing the good in missing her legs, less weight to drag.

 

“Commander, there's one more thing.”  She sighs, but keeps going with the truth of fact that, unfortunately, she can't out-crawl whatever he's about to say.  “Until you are discharged from duty, you are still Alliance.  I can look away for only so long before you will find yourself court-martialed for your blatant insubordination.”

 

“Sir, with all due respect,” _go fuck yourself,_ “I have given so much to the Alliance- hell, _to the galaxy -_ that I can demand to be left alone with my stumps for legs and one-armed husband.  You want to court-martial me?  Fantastic… Not like my life could get any worse after all we've given and done.”

 

Admiral Hackett is quiet for a time before he nods.  “As you were, Commander.”

 

He’s probably still just a tiny bit pissed at either her or Garrus, or both, because he doesn’t bother with her little show of stubbornness, merely stepping around her as he leaves.  It’s all the same to her because she doesn’t need any help from someone and definitely not from the Alliance that’s fucked her countless times before.  

 

Besides, she’s sure this medical treatments here comes at a price, at the cost of some ‘favor’ that the Systems Alliance will ask of them.  It’s pointless, she knows, trying to deny or resist the fact that they’ll be forced to do it one way or another and all she can really hope is that the damn bastards were able to take their limbs when they took them under sedation to this ship.  Having top of the line prosthetics might end up being their only victory reward after the war, after all, and she’ll be damned if they get the shitty military issued ones.   _Not to mention that they probably would have to go to the Hierarchy for Garrus’_.

 

 _The Hierarchy.  Shit._  

 

She has no clue what will happen to them now that both governments know of their survival.  Will they be separated?  Is there anything to prevent that?   Can they manage to find a way to keep his family and their children close and safe?  There’s just too many new questions that didn’t _have_ to exist if not for finding themselves being sold out by a fucking merc.

 

Growling in anger at their predicament, she shoves away any aid in her trek as she snaps at the nearest nurse.  “What room is Garrus in?  Tell me, dammit!”

 

“He’s… He’s in 308A.”

 

As if she could really read the numbers at this height.  “Point.  It.  Out!”

 

“Jane?!”  

 

His voice calls to her, worry painted in his vocals as he yells for her.  She can only imagine what they’ve done to him to make it so that he can’t come to her and it isn’t soon enough when a technician brings a wheelchair.  She doesn’t accept their help to get in, in fact finds it insulting they’d even try, and jerks her body up and into the chair, immediately speeding down the hall of the ship.  

 

“Garrus?!”

 

“Jane!” He barks out and she skids to a stop at the room, nearly throwing herself out.  Turning to the number, it reveals the right room and she slowly pushing in to see what they did to him.

 

Since she was expecting the worse and not a solution so seemingly simple, she can’t help the sharp laugh at what she finds when she rolls in.  Her mate, ex C-Sec, _cuffed_ to the bed’s railing and forcefully jerking against the restraints with a loud clang.  

 

“Easy, easy,” she says with a chuckle, rolling to his bedside.  “You’ll tear the bed apart.”  

 

“Better than being stuck like this.  They cuffed _my only hand_ to the bed, Jane.  That’s beyond cruel,” he adds in mock hurt, scooting over as best he can for her when she locks the chair’s wheels to start pulling herself up beside him.

 

She snorts and lays down beside him, making sure to avoid his bandages.  “Like you'd never do it.”

 

He scoffs, as if hurt by the accusation.  “I’ll have you know I was the model of proper suspect treatment.”

 

Knowing that, in this case, he was anything but, she chuckles and leans up to kiss him.  “Right.  It was all C-Sec’s fault that they didn’t believe the suspect just fell down.”

 

“Thank you,” he says with a chuckle in his voice and a smile on his face.  “Someone who believes me.”

 

She chuckles and kisses his neck, reaching over to take his hand.  “How about I go see whose ass I need to kick to get you out of those cuffs?”  Garrus chuckles and lifts a brow in question, but she knows exactly what he would’ve joked about, the shit.  “And _yes,_ I can totally kick someone’s ass without my legs.”

 

“I didn’t say anything,” he says with a rumbling laugh.

 

“You didn’t have to.  Just had to give that look.”

 

“You mean the one that always manages to get you into bed?”  His response comes with that damnable smug smirk that, damn him, she loves so much.

 

She knows when she’s been defeated, when her bluff has been called, and sighs with a pout.  “I hate you.”

 

“No, you _love_ me.”

 

Snorting, she scratches under his chin, hearing him purr.  “You just wait until I’m back in top shape and I’ll show you just how much and how far that _love_ goes.”

 

“Think you can top taking me to the ends of the galaxy and into a war with a sentient race of machines bent on destroying all organic life?  I’d like to see that.”

 

“Maybe not, but how about trying to figure out just how good that turian stamina is?”  She smirks at his interested growl and whispers against his ear.  “Just you, me, and so much time we wouldn’t know what to do with.”

 

“I can think of quite a few things,” he responds with a growling whisper, turning his head to kiss her with tangling tongues.

 

In the midst of trying to reconnect intimately in the only way their bodies can manage without pain right now, the door opens and feet approach.  A quick cough of embarrassment leads a clearing of a throat.  

 

“I’m so sorry,” a woman’s voice says, a look as they part revealing a uniformed Alliance nurse.  “I wanted to come check up on you, Commander Shepard, and rerun an IV for your pain medication.”  

 

The mention of pain killers only seems to fuel whatever pain her adrenaline from waking up here kept at bay.  All she can imagine feeling the ache in her bones and the sharp pain where they must have cut her open is, _fuck, it’s a good thing we were asleep when they had to perform all the surgeries to get us to this point._

 

It’s also a good reminder to make sure her immobile mate gets his too.  

 

“I’ll only take it if Garrus’ are re-administered,” she says as she looks him over, examining what’s connected to him.  

 

“Already got me covered, Jane.”  Garrus motions with his chin towards what looks like an automated intravenous medication pump, a digital timer on the front.  

 

“That’s correct.  You will get one similar, but with human specific pain medication.”  Motioning a cart just outside the door, the woman eases it in.  “We've been given turian medical supplies from the Hierarchy until Praetor Vakarian is ready to be transferred to a Hierarchy ship-”

 

“What?”  “Like hell he is!”  They both say in tandem, his in a low growl and hers an angered shout.

 

“Who the fuck do we need to talk to get this sorted out.  He is _not_ being taken from me.”

 

“Please, ma’am.  I'm just your nurse.”

 

The tension in the rooms seems to dissipate almost immediately because the woman seems genuinely shocked and concerned for her own safety against the two angry cripples that Jane calms some.  She sort of feels guilty at it, at snapping at a woman just trying to do a most likely shitty job and be the bearer of even shittier news because the higher ups don’t want to deal with the insubordinate Commander Shepard.

 

Taking a deep breath to calm herself, Jane reaches out in attempt to make peace.  “Hey.  I apologize for ripping into you.  If anything, I know what it’s like to have to be the one doing the shit no one up top wants to.”

 

“No, I… I can understand the stresses of it all.”  The woman, a frail looking thing with graying brown hair pulled tightly into a little bun on her neck, looks at her supplies before them, offering a sad sort of a smile.  “You certainly aren’t the first patients to be angry with how this war has left them and I don’t think you’ll be the last.”

 

There is a strenuous sort of agreement to leave it at that from them all as Jane simply nods and offers her arm for the IV.  The nurse works face, finding a vein easily enough on the first try and hooking up the tubes and lines of medication that, as she explained, will combat pain and prevent infection.

 

When it’s done, Jane feels the warm rush of pain killers and the pain in her legs gets more bearable, the last few minutes of waiting drawing close on agony that left her gripping so tightly onto her mate’s hand.  Before the woman can leave, though, Jane stops her.

 

“We would like to talk to someone to get these cuffs off.  As well as get the Praetor a communication channel to the Primarch.”

 

Garrus, thank god, catches on quick and nods with a hum.  “I need to start learning about the rebuilding efforts and it can’t wait until I’m stable and on a Hierarchy ship.”

 

“Oh… Oh,” the nurse says in confusion, nodding.  “Of course.  I’ll let the Admiral know… About both.”

 

That is when they are left alone in the silence of machines humming and monitors beeping.  With hope, Vitus has managed to survive the war and, with his help, they can maintain a semblance of control on the situation.  Perhaps what they’ve been through with the man will gain them a hand in making sure they are both not separated and in a position where their children can be kept close.

 

Some time after they are left alone, an Alliance soldier with a fresh bandage over his cheek, and a glare for her husband, enters their room and comes to the bedside.  “I’ve been ordered to remove your cuffs by Captain Moors,” he grinds out, clearly angered by the order.  “Don’t make us regret this.”

 

“Just uncuff me,” Garrus says back with a slight narrowing of his eyes.   _Definitely something between these two_ , she thinks.  

 

The soldier holds his Tool over the cuff and it snaps open, her mate immediately offering her his hand in silent request.  She takes it and begins to rub and massage his wrist as the soldier pockets the restraints.  

 

“Commander Shepard,” the soldier says in departing with a curt nod.  Whether or not he blatantly ignores Garrus because of a personal issue or racial, she doesn’t know nor have the patience to delve into.  

 

Not when it’s back to just the two of them, he with his hand in hers and she gently caressing and rubbing away any discomfort from the cuffs meant for humans that cut into his wrist and plates.  Plus, this is time they can use to try and figure out their next step in what to do to get back on track with their retirement plans.

 

“Damocles and Cassia are safe with your dad and sister, right?”

 

He hums and nods, moving his hand for a moment to grip hers.  “They are.  Sol and dad would die to make sure they’re okay… And I have a pretty good feeling that, right now, that Blue Suns camp is being combed through for whoever sold us out.”

 

“You came to that conclusion too, huh?”

 

Garrus nods and rumbles before a soft chuckle vibrates through his chest.  “I’m inclined to believe that a man like Arcanus wouldn’t go through all the trouble to coordinate with Liara into getting us taken care of and whole again just to sell us out to the Alliance.  Way I see it, that very person will come to our attention soon.”

 

“And the kids?  You think with Liara pulling so many strings already that the Shadow Broker might assist in hiding them?”

 

“I don’t see why not.  She’s already gotten us and them this far-”

 

“Praetor Vakarian, sir?”  A young officer in a crisp uniform enters, saluting the two before she speaks again.  “The comm channel you requested is active.”

 

Jane looks from the woman to her mate.  “Go tell talk to the Primarch and see what you can do about that other matter,” she says pointedly and watches him nod as he moves to stand, taking his IV stand in hand.

 

Giving her a smile in parting, he rumbles and says, “I’ll see that it’s done.”

 


	6. Chapter 6

-Garrus-

He arrives in the comm room just as an unstable connection is made, the image of Primarch Adrien Victus appearing. _At least one good thing in this situation._

"Sir," he greets with a nod, foregoing the salute he can't make without his left arm. "I won't attempt to hide the fact that it's good to see you."

"Save the 'sirs', Garrus." Victus smiles slightly with a friendly hum and Garrus looks him over, noticing the small bit of a tilt in his stance to one side. _He must have been injured during the push through the city._ "I must admit, I hadn't expected to see you at the end of everything."

"Yeah. I thought I wouldn't make it either."

"On the contrary. It was _me_ that I assumed wouldn't make it," the Primarch says with a chuckle. "You and yours are too stubborn to fall so easily." Stopping to hum in thought, the man looks off before turning back. "I don't know whether it's a good or bad thing I came back from the advance through London."

Garrus frowns at that, thinking that, in fact, it's _good_ that he made it out. Not just for his own personal matters, but for Palaven too. Their people needed someone who was willing to bend the traditional means of thinking for the betterment of their species.

"What exactly happened to you and your squad?"

The man shakes his head with a low growl. "When the Reaper fell, it took down the building we were in. We were trapping under the rubble and didn't even make it to rejoin Hammer for the run to the beam."

"It saved your lives," Garrus assures with a frown. "Most of Hammer was wiped out on by Harbinger."

"Is that how," he stops at that, simply motioning with his chin and Garrus nods.

"I was pinned under a Mako. I didn't even get to go with Jane through the beam and onto the Citadel."

"Which might have saved you life, as well." Victus rumbles and takes a few steps within the sensors of his side of the QEC. "From what I hear, it is close to a miracle that Shepard made it." He nods in agreement as the Primarch silences for a moment before saying, "But I know you didn't contact me to check up on my health or the state of the Hierarchy."

"You're right. While I am glad to see you made it, I don't have the mind right now to care about our people. It just doesn't feel like my priority-"

"As I would expect."

"I'm here to ask for your help," Garrus says, not affected by the interruption. "They're trying to separate my family. I already have to rely on my instincts that my children are safe, but I can't be apart from Jane. She needs me… I need _her_."

The Primarch nods and hums, crossing his hands behind his back as he takes a more professional, detached appearance. "There has been an arrangement made between all species' that we are all to care for our own in order to allow for each people to focus on tending to their own. The only exception would be for injured too critical to survive the transfer between medical facilities.

"As you can assume, you have been deemed noncritical, so the Alliance is requesting you be transferred off the Berlin and into the care of the _Salubris_ , our closest medical vessel." His next statement may or may not be be due to Garrus' clenched fist, it's hard to tell. " _However_ , if you'd be willing to take on a job, there may be a compromise."

The slight smirk to the man's mandibles piques his interest, straightening his spine he rumbles in question. "I'm interested."

"We need an ambassador of sorts, someone to represent the Hierarchy on the SSV Berlin while the Alliance tends to our soldiers." Victus relaxes and leans against his side of the QEC, injury obviously causing some discomfort. "Although we don't think they'd do it, we want someone aboard to ensure that their reports of necessary supplies and needs to care for our men are correct. You will also need to connect with our doctor on board, Doctor Sadius Tarin, and report back to us your findings on his relationship with the Alliance doctors there. Again, we aren't trying to assume anything, but I'd like to be completely sure that the Alliance is not adhering to the new treaty between the species by offering the bare minimum to our people in their care."

"And I'll be allowed to remain aboard?"

He nods. "While the Alliance sees no priority in your treatment, they cannot prohibit us from having a representative for our people aboard the Berlin. They may not want 'visitors' to their patients, but I doubt this way they can stop you from being with your mate so long as you continue to work for the Hierarchy."

"What of my family? My children?" He growls and adds, with quite a bit of irritation lacing his vocals. "I don't want them anywhere near the Alliance and I don't trust their safety where they are now."

Adrien Victus hums in thought a moment, gauging his words before he speaks. "Normally, I wouldn't expect someone acting on another ship to have a bunk on a turian vessel, but I may be able to give either your sister or your father a position assisting me in keeping communications between yourself and other ambassadors on xeno vessels."

Neither would be qualified but, by the sounds, it almost seems like a simple assistant's position. Maybe, just maybe, his sister could find a way to juggle the information and report efficiently. Not that he doubted her, but, if he knew Solana, she tended to see paperwork and monotonous work in about the same light as he did. Although, perhaps her lack of want to Overload and burn each and every datapad laid out and ready to be filled out might lend well to her acceptance.

Not that he has many doubts that either would accept - he knows them both too well to imagine they'd let a chance to both help their people and their family - but the fact that they'd be so far from him makes him keen sadly. _Safe, but so far away_.

"Garrus," Victus says with a knowing, sympathetic rumble. "I know this is hard, but it's the safest option for them. They would be safe aboard the Indomitable."

"Not to refuse your offer, but they won't be entirely safe unless they are right here with us. Our experiences have already proven that."

In an instant, the man turns from Primarch to a man that Garrus might even call a friend with a simple question. "What about the Normandy?"

"This is the first time either of us have had comm access. I don't even know the state or location of the Normandy."

"The Normandy is on Earth, her crew tending to the rebuilding of Earth."

"So, under Alliance control."

Adrien sighs and nods. "It would seem so."

Humming in thought, a slight anger under his vocals, Garrus thinks of his only other option. "What of a turian refugee camp? It's not my first choice, by any means, but they can blend in, they can _hide_ in somewhat plain sight. No one would immediately recognize them as my family unless they say it."

"There is a camp of refugees working to rebuild London in return for housing arrangements in Alliance provided prefabs," the older turian says. "It may not be ideal and I can't offer that it won't be a grueling job for your family, but they may gain a sense of privacy that they might not gain at a normal refugee camp."

Knowing this is the best option, even if not what he'd have taken in a perfect life, Garrus nods. "I'll find a way to contact them. Is there anything else, sir?"

Back to business and professionalism, Victus hums in remembrance. "No, Praetor. I will make sure the captain of the _Salubris_ ensures your position on the Berlin is acknowledged." Holographically projected eyes lift to his. "Know that this only extends until our men are no longer under Alliance care."

"By then, Jane and I will be gone."

He doesn't bother to pretend he will stay on through the service, the duty he should feel obligated to perform for his people. Tired of serving for his people, he holds no illusions that he will remain under the Hierarchy's control once they are completely able to use their new limbs.

The Primarch doesn't seem all too surprised by that and, if he doesn't approve, he doesn't say anything besides, "We could always use a leader like you to rebuild, Garrus."

He doesn't hesitate in his head shake, a determined growl in his voice as he says, "I am done with this galaxy, Primarch. It's time my wife and I take our children and _live_."

"A shame, but I know all too well the other life."

There is no question that the man does. It only took a look between he and his son to know what effects a life buried in work and duty did to a personal relationship, and it could only get worse in a galaxy strife with rebuilding efforts after the war.

It's why Garrus will fight talon and teeth not to be dragged into that, into a life he both didn't expect or want.

"I wish you well, Garrus," Adrien pulls him from his thoughts. "Now go be seen by Doctor Tarin and get yourself cleared for duty."

He nods in the best of a salute he can offer as the comm channel closes. There is only one chance he has to stay with his mate, to leave his children, and he struggles with the decision. Will they be safe if he's gone? Will she?

"Damn it…"

"Sir?" A communications tech stands at the threshold of the ship's comm room. "Would you like to make any further communications?"

"Get me the Normandy."

The man nods and moves to the terminal, tapping some comms as the QEC flares to bright life. "Comm-ing the Normandy, please report. I repeat. Communications request for the Normandy."

" _This is Comm Specialist Traynor for the Normandy."_

"Normandy, this is the SSV Berlin. Praetor Vakarian is aboard and requesting communications."

" _Garrus? - I mean. Yes, we'll accept the communications. Connecting."_ A very distorted image that he barely recognizes as the Specialist appears. " _I'm afraid most of the Normandy's crew is off-ship. Since we're docked, it's nothing but a repair and engineering crew."_

The tech looks to him in 'is this okay' and he nods. "Thank you," he says to the man with a curt nod and receives a salute before being left alone. "Traynor." Stepping forward, he assumes she can't see him because she hasn't, predictably, remarked on his condition.

" _Garrus? Wow, you have no idea how happy I am and the others will be to hear you are alive… Is…_ "

"Jane is alive too. We're injured, but alive." Not willing to explain, he adds before she can ask about their injuries. "I'm more interested in the crew. Has the Normandy heard anything about Hammer?"

" _We haven't had complete reports on everyone, but those who have managed to return contact I would dare say would be wanting to see you both."_

As he suspected. Still, they _are_ all a very close approximation of family so he doesn't see any fault in it. However, he's sure the Alliance would.

"I'm sure Jane would agree that it'd be good to see the others, but things on the Berlin are less than ideal for the chance to have visitation." He sighs and leans against the terminal, hand beside the terminal's keys once again dwarfing those meant for human hands. Oh, how he remembers the difficulty in calibrating the cannons using the human made terminals with his larger fingers.

" _Oh. Well…"_

"I need you to assure the crew of our survival." _Get Liara's attention at our predicament and, just maybe, she'll be of help._ "I don't expect Jane and I to stay here long and we might need some help blending into the shadows," he says with a chuckle.

Her amused chuckle is barely more than static feedback, but he understands it all the same when she adds, " _Aye, aye… And, Garrus? We knew you two wouldn't be knocked down so easily."_

"Knocked down, maybe, but you should see how the other guys came out."

He closes the call with confidence that he has done Jane good in checking up as best he can with a crew that is as scattered as possible on a small planet like Earth. He knows they will begin to come back together now that the word of their gravity force gets around, he surprised if they don't already know of her survival, but their reunions will have to wait until they manage a way off this damn ship. Perhaps, when the time comes, they could employ their help.

Leave it to them to need an entire ship of armed soldiers to get away from a ship full of doctors.

His next stop is the small office of the Hierarchy's only on-board doctor. Knocking on the door, he is emitted with a low, almost inaudible 'enter'.

The man is, simply put, old, definitely older than his own father with his extensively cracked from age facial plates, but there is something that strikes Garrus as strong, assured in his place as the doctor entrusted with the men on this ship. It's that high-held confidence that the man radiates that has Garrus giving a low nod in respectful greeting, figuring it wouldn't hurt to be on the man's good side.

"Praetor Garrus Vakarian, I presume?" The man's voice is low, almost confused for soft, but Garrus feels the rumbling vocals and sees the straight-edged stance that speak of him being anything but. To him, this man feels like military, through and through.

"We don't have to go by titles, Doctor Tarin."

"Oh, but we do when said Praetor was part of the moving force in this war. You've earned that respect." _So definitely military, but it's been years if his age is any sign. Perhaps a reserve medic?_

His inner observations are interrupted with the man waves a hand to enter his small bunk that functions as the only office he possesses on the Berlin. "Please, come so I can examine you. While I trust human doctors in their respective fields, I don't see too many Alliance doctors who specialize in turian care."

"I was actually treated off-ship."

Doctor Tarin hums and nods, motioning the IV. "Mind if I remove it? I don't think it'll help much beyond getting you slowly addicted."

"By all means," he says with a nod. "I actually supposed it should be removed anyways." At the man's raised brow plate, he adds, "The Primarch would like me to be your patients' ambassador with the Alliance."

"I see. Well, while I don't see a need for it and figure your job will be quite uneventful here after the amount of aid I've already been given by the other doctors, I understand you are probably here for an ulterior reason."

Garrus doesn't flinch at the pointed look and, instead, nods. "It's no secret that my wife is here and I don't trust her being alone without the Alliance trying to find a way to abuse their former power over her."

"You _do_ understand that this means your wounds will have to be treated without narcotics, correct? While I will make sure you are on a prescription of antibiotics to ensure you do not succumb to infection while the implant heals, you cannot be on anything that will impair your ability to work." The man tosses aside the used IV line and turns off the machine controlling the pain medication.

"I've actually gone through worse, Doctor." Garrus motions his face. "I was back to active duty within days after this and cybernetics implanted in my shoulder. If it means moving faster through this healing process, I'd do anything."

"So I assumed," Tarin says with a hum as he runs gently fingers around and over the incisions in his left shoulder, testing where they just recently installed the outlet for his new arm. "I'm actually surprised you're already up after having surgery only yesterday."

He trills in surprise at that and looks at the doctor. "A day?"

The man nods with a rumble as he opens his Omni-Tool and types in some notes. "The sedative used in the Blue Suns' camp was a very strong one. I assume that they tend to use a universal one to better treat all of their men, but it has the side effect of leaving you nearly in a coma while it works out of your system."

 _That's how they managed to move us from the camp without us even waking up_ , he thinks with a growl as Doctor Tarin runs a scan over him.

"Everything seems to be on track with what I'd expect of your healing, Praetor," Tarin says as he closes his Tool. "I'll request your limb from the doctors here so that we can begin physical therapy as soon as you're healed enough for the weight."

"When will that be? I'm running a bet with my wife of who will get to wear theirs first."

The man actually chuckles at that and hums in thought. "I see your recovery to actually be a short one. Your body is still strong after all this time you must have been bed-ridden between now and the war."

He was actually surprised at that, thinking quite the opposite now that the loss of muscle tone is making his back hurt. Still, if the doctor says he is in a state to start rehabilitation as soon as he heals, then he won't argue, doesn't _want_ to argue.  Besides, once he gets to where he can actually work with his new limb, his back won't be much of a problem as he'll be in an even better condition than he was during the war.  Of that, he's sure.


	7. Chapter 7

-Jane-

" _And we are receiving confirmation from the Alliance that Commander Shepard is alive and being treated aboard the SSV Berlin-"_

_"_ _Under the best doctors, I bet."_

_"_ _There's no need for such disdain, Mr Rooke… I believe that the Alliance_ _**should** _ _be doing more than what's necessary to-"_

_"_ _Just because she is the propaganda machine for the Alliance doesn't mean she should be getting preferential treatment! There are refugees out there that this extra cost of her_ _ **royal**_ _treatment could be helping!"_

"Turn it off, Garrus."

The vidscreen in their room snaps off with a click and her mate looks back over his shoulder with a raised brow. "Ever wonder what they'd say if they know you're practically imprisoned on this ship for treatment?"

She snorts and digs her thumbs into the knots on his shoulders, right between spinal and shoulder plates, making him hum in relaxation. "I doubt they'd believe it. Hell, they'd probably consider it all a conspiracy to make it seem like I'm just an average person."

"Leave it to you to become the hot topic of discussion," he says as he rolls his neck, flexing his shoulders as the knots loosen.

"There will always be someone, somewhere, who will find something to bitch about," she responds as she moves her hands lower, to his lower back that's been causing problems the more he's been on his feet these last few days thanks to his weight loss. "I didn't expect anything less, but I had hoped it wouldn't occupy every damn channel in this shit hole."

It was true. Every time they turned on the vidscreen to try and drown away their worries of not knowing what was happening to those they love outside this damn ship in the real universe, there was someone new gossiping about her. While she could take the judgment, the spite, or exuberant praise, admiration she didn't deserve, coming from the other side, she couldn't stand that she was all people seemed to be wanting to talk about where they _should_ be having a fucking parade in celebration.

She could only wait before the talks started to turn to her personal life and everyone's resulting thoughts on things they should keep her damn noses out of. Insulting and disapproving of her as an Alliance pawn she could take, but insulting the life she's taken with her husband is another matter.

"You're lost in thought again," Garrus admonishes with a soft rumble. "You can't let them get to you, Jane."

"I'm trying not to, but there's just… After all the shit we did, we still get spit on."

"They are frightened of what is left after this war, worried about how we will rebuild." He sighs and turns to stop her massage and look at her in the eyes. "It doesn't make it right and, in fact, it's one more burden the galaxy has put on you, to be the one they blame for all the horrors that never should have been real, but it's not something I want you stressing over." Feeling his hand wrap around hers, she leans forward to lay her head on his chest. "I want you worrying about how we're going to hit the ground running the second we get those limbs."

She chuckles and nods, trying to push away the thought that soon he, too, will fall victim to the unforgiving limelight. "Don't know if I'll be running, but I'll damn well will be crawling if I have to."

Adding in his own chuckle, he nips her cheek in a kiss. "I'll carry you in I must, even hold back my complaints of your new weight."

His smirk tells her that, yes, that was a jab at possibly taking that remark down the path of insulting her weight and she has nothing to say to it now that he's already read her, taking to pouting instead.

"You're so cute when you do that."

Her brows draw down in glare. "Excuse me, but I was the one who just took down the Reapers. I am _not_ 'cute'."

Garrus, the shit, merely chuckles and runs his talons through her curls. "Your threats don't frighten me."

"They should," she says with a smirk and whispers against his ear. "I can always get another collar to put you in your place."

She loves that growl she gets out of him as he buries his face against her neck and runs his tongue along her pulse to make her shiver. She knows he's about to say something that is interrupted by the door opening by his sigh and slight growl as they look to see who has come to bother them this time.

_It's either another nurse trying to get me to accept an IV for stronger pain killers I won't use or the turian doctor that wants to take Garrus to work again like the past few days._

The sight of an Alliance orderly convinces her it's not a visitor for her mate, but that doesn't lessen her irritation because it only means that this man at her door is either here to request she listen to doctor's orders to stop being so damn stubborn and cooperate or to ask if she'll accept another Alliance visitor - which she won't, even going so far as to ignore them when they just waltz in anyways.

"Commander Shepard. Praetor Vakarian." The man closes the door behind him as he slowly approaches, a temporary Omni-Tool in hand. "I am here to give you this."

Jane raises a brow in both suspicion and curiosity. "And who, pray tell, has decided to grace us with this gift?"

"The Shadow Broker is aware you do not currently have Omni-Tool access?"

"Afraid I left mine in my other arm," Garrus says dryly.

She snorts and nods, looking back to the man. "As far as I'm aware, mine was fried in the blast. That, or they removed it for no damn reason," she motions her scar where the Omni-Tool implant was, "So were living like we're in the twentieth century without any outside communications or, hell, any entertainment besides the vidscreen." Lowering her voice so only her mate can hear, she adds, "We can't even have fucking sex while still healing."

Garrus chuckles as the man nods and offers the Tool. "Afraid this can't contact every extranet address, but you will be able to contact an address that the Shadow Broker assures is very important to you."

There's only one number that would actually be important to them, only one other person - or persons - they would like to speak with right now. If Liara is giving them that chance, what kind of idiots would they be to refuse it?

Hesitating, knowing that, for Liara's sake of remaining the 'all-knowing, all-powerful Broker', they have to pretend not to know who the Broker is or why they would be helping two crippled soldiers, Jane crosses her arms. "What would we owe the Broker?"

"The Broker is aware of certain _arrangements_ made over the years that have not yet been fulfilled," the man whose name tag saying Jonathan may or may not be the truth. "Consider this paying one of the debts owed."

"Will it be tracked?" What lies beneath Garrus' question is really, 'Can it be tracked by the Alliance or other governments?' and Jane nods in agreement to both what's said and what's meant.

"No, sir. This is your private Tool until you find yourselves in a position where you will no longer need it."

"Well," she says as she holds out a hand for it, her fingers wrapping around the old shape of the easily removable bracelet-looking Omni-Tools of years ago. "I don't see any reason not to accept it. I don't see who would be paying the Broker to spy on us considering they could simply bug the room."

The man chuckles and shrugs. "You said it, not me. But I assure you that the Shadow Broker merely means to pay a debt. He doesn't like accruing debt when he can just as quickly repay it."

"Looks like you get to wear it, Jane," her mate says with a chuckle and motions his missing arm. "I'll have to wait for my own."

She chuckles as hears the door click shut, looking to see that the 'orderly' has already taken his leave. "Guess he couldn't stand your bad sense of humor."

"Please," he says with a feigned scoff. "He just needed to step outside before he lost his composure thanks to my amazing delivery."

Snorting, she removes the protective covering of the underside and lays the bracelet onto her skin, lining up sensitive sensors that are revealed to the proper tendons so that it will activate and deactivate with the flick of her wrist.

It won't be very fancy, probably only capable of calls to a specific number thanks to the software of these things being left in the dust long ago, but it'll work perfectly for what they need it for. A fact she can't wait to try out as she accesses the outdated interface and starts to search for the call command.

It takes some time, but soon there is a static of connection before they hear a familiar voice. " _Hello?"_

"Hey, old man." That gets a glare from her mate, but his father merely offered a feigned sigh in annoyance.

"Jane," he admonishes with a shake of his head as he turns to the Omni-Tool that is, unfortunately, only audio. _Damn old tech._ "How are Damocles and Cassia? Did you and Solana get a communication from the Hierarchy?"

" _You mean the one about the refugee work program in London?"_ He chuckles and they can hear the soft clicks of their children, which a good sign to their health and situation. " _I had a feeling that you were trying to tell us something. We were transported here just yesterday."_

"Are the little bastards settling in?"

"I sure hope that nickname doesn't stick," her mate deadpans as his father begins to speak.

" _They are settling better than we are, actually. They miss you, of course, and don't sleep as well without you, but no one here seems all that bothered by the thought of children in the camp. I think it's because most here are those on the liveships, now looking for something to_ _ **do**_ _besides be a burden."_

"I can get that," Jane agrees with a nod. "We feel trapped and useless without at least being able to get down and dirty cleaning shit up. Hell, I'd call off retirement just to help people rebuild their homes, build one for ourselves while we're at it."

"One day soon, Jane."

 _"_ _I understand your frustrations. I really do."_ He hums, the sound mostly static, and adds, " _But you two shouldn't, for once, become impatient. Let those implants take and you won't have to come into later problems from the stress you'll be putting on them."_

"Thanks, mom." Jane smiles at his mandible flick in exasperation that _has_ to be happening on the other side of the call from the look on her mate's face of why she has to constantly goad the man. She'll give them some peace, she figures, and changes the conversation back to their little family. "Are the kids able to hear us?"

" _Yes. They can hear you and are currently trying to put their hands through the Tool interface."_

"I miss them." She frowns at her husband's sad rumble as he says that and takes his hand, squeezing in shared sorrow and reassurance that they will see them again very soon. _Only a few weeks, Garrus._

She knows well that Titus is trying to fish for something to take their minds off of it when he says, " _How is your healing coming along? I would hope it is well, but I thought that each species was no longer tending to xeno patients unless they are too critical."_

Garrus chuckles at that. "Well, I guess you could say I took on a job to keep me on the Berlin."

" _How are you managing that?"_

"I work as a representative for the injured aboard. We currently have two patients here, but one is soon to be transferred once his wounds from his latest surgery heal enough for transport."

" _I thought you weren't going to work."_

"It wasn't really my first option, but Victus offered it as a solution and I took it." He hums in thought, deciding whether or not he should say it. "I do not plan to keep this job long."

" _Garrus."_

Her husband frowns at the slight tone of admonishment, but growls slightly in stubbornness she knows so well. "Whatever you're going to say, don't. It'll save us an argument." His hand in hers shifts to link their fingers in that pattern that would seem uncomfortable to anyone else but them. "I have done as much as I care to for the sense of duty and honor, so I will play this part in order to get what _I_ want. What I want is to be with my wife while we wait to finish healing and to walk out with her once that is done."

There is a long pause before a simple, _"Okay."_

"Okay?" Garrus seems confused, which is completely understandable because she, too, is completely baffled by the lack of contention.

" _Yes, 'okay'. I am agreeing with your decision."_ Hearing his son's confused trill, he explains, " _I know trying to guide you to the path of what society expects from you will get us nowhere but into a heated argument that will only pull us apart when we need, more than anything, to stick together. You also need your family, Garrus, and they need you. You are a better man than I for seeing that that is put first."_

Her mate rumbles and ducks his head in silent thanks as he squeezes her hand. " _And Garrus? I know you don't care about doing things the traditional way, but make sure you don't anger the wrong people."_

They both chuckle at that, not sure if they've already been there, done that, burned those bridges. Still, Jane nods as if her father-in-law could see it and says, "Noted. Thanks for the tip."

" _Too little, too late, probably,"_ he says with a slight hint of amusement.

"All the same, we will try it," Garrus says with his own amused rumble, the two men's vocals bouncing off the other with such a similarity that, even if she didn't know them, it would be obvious they're related.

A tap on their door announces a visitor just before it slides open and the turian doctor enters, his cracked plates standing out in when the lights play off his white, spider web-like colony paints as he nods in greeting.

"Dad, I have to go," her mate says as both of them return it, figuring it better to be on the good and respectful side of the man who will give Garrus his arm than not. "Duty calls."

" _Something I never thought I'd hear. Take care, Garrus and Jane. We will be waiting for you._ " Garrus purrs at that last, they both knowing what isn't said as he reaches forward and closes the call.

Turning to the older man, her mate stands. "Doctor Tarin, this is my mate-"

"Commander Shepard," he fills in, offering a hand in a very human gesture. She takes it and is very impressed, and pleasantly surprised, but the strength still in it. This man may not look it, but his firm grip proves to her that he knows what he's doing, that he wouldn't be here if he wasn't still on top of his game.

"Sir. It's nice to meet you."

"For me as well." His steel eyes turn to her mate as he says, "Are you ready, Praetor? I need you to come with me while we speak with Lieutenant Teritus' family over the QEC in order to gain the right of attorney so we can begin his actual treatment." He gives them both a knowing look and is sure to emphasize his next comment. "It may take some time, but I believe we can stabilize him for travel around the time you both will begin physical therapy. I wouldn't want your duties to have to interfere with your healing."

She doesn't know if it's a good or bad sign that their goal of sticking together and getting out as soon as possible is so easily readable, but she has to consider that maybe the man knowing their intentions might work out for them. After all, what kind of doctor would try to halt his patients' recovery just out of spite for the man trying to use the system?

"Of course, Doctor," Garrus agrees with a rumble and slight lower of his head, showing that he understands the message.

When he looks to her with apology in his eyes for having to leave, she smiles and shrugs. "I'll just flip through channels to find something that isn't news."

He chuckles as he kisses her temple, squeezing her hand one last time before leaving. Alone, she lays back on the pillows with a huff and turns on the vidscreen, knowing she won't find anything that isn't either infomercial, sitcom bullshit, or panels currently ripping her career and military history to pieces with belligerent criticism or idiotic praise.

" _-I'm telling you, we shouldn't just turn away from the fact that Commander Shepard was working Cerberus!"_

Click.

" _-Broke galactic laws-"_

Click.

_"_ _Hero and Savior of the Galaxy-"_

Click.


	8. Chapter 8

-Garrus-

Days drag, hours are counted by the visits of nurses coming to check on their conditions or Doctor Tarin entering to request his presence and it starts to weigh on their nerves and sense of peace. They itch for something beyond the stark white of the hospital room, for more than the simple calls between themselves and his family that doesn't really sate that desire to be with their loved ones, their children, just as empty words of improvement do not get them out of this Alliance prison.

He feels for Jane, her condition limiting any sort of escape beyond the supervised trips in her wheelchair around the hall, and has no clue how she has managed her cabin fever into the simple outbursts of anger towards poor, helpless fools that dare stand in her way. Sometimes he even comes back to the room to find her trying to crawl across the floor in their room in frustration and the need to 'just move, dammit'.

She is not at fault, however. Not when he can get out and about the ship while he works and she is left chained to the chair that is her only means of mobility, allowed only to designated areas. She craves her freedom and, he knows, when she finally has her legs given to her, there is not a damn thing that will stop or hold her back.

Three weeks pass before they gain a visitor they weren't able they would get a chance to see until they escaped this damn hospital ship, Spectre Ashley Williams. He guesses he shouldn't be all too surprised considering the woman probably has a clearance from both Council and Alliance high enough to get her access anywhere on the ship she wanted.

What he doesn't expect is for her to come on orders.

"Hey, Skipper. Garrus," she greets with a nod as she shuts the door, then smiles. "Good to see you two still won't die and make it easier on all the bad bastards in the galaxy."

They chuckle and nod as Garrus gets up to give her hand a shake, the woman moving to the bed to give his wife one as well. "Good to see someone without it having to be through the vidscreen news bullshit," Jane says as she crosses her arms with that smirk of hers, lifting a brow. "And _why_ haven't you used your Spectre status before now to get a look at the cripples?"

"You know how it is, always something that needs to be done and someone's hand that needs to be shaken," she explains before leaning against the wall and crossing her arms, face contorting from open and inviting to one more pensive. "I have actually come for more than catching up."

Of course he should have expected the unexpected visit to mean something besides them getting a break from the monotony of the SSV Berlin. Their luck just didn't turn out that way.

"The Alliance is preparing to unveil the plans for a sister vessel to the Normandy." Straight to business once the small talk is over, said talk definitely a type of solace for coming to his mate with one more demand, just one more task that the Alliance or Council has. "You are a symbol of humanity perseverance and, to many, the face of the Normandy. The Alliance would like you to be present for the unveiling."

Garrus is about to say where and how they can take that request when Jane holds up a hand. "Let me get this straight. They want me to get up out of bed with no legs just to sit there and, what, look pretty? That sounds like the _last_ thing I want to do."

Ash nods in understanding and looks to the floor. "I hear you're almost to the point of installing your prosthetics."

That change of subject obviously isn't accidental and one Garrus reads easily, rumbling as he shifts in his seat on the bed. "You can get them to us?"

"If you agree, yes. I can make sure the doctor allows Skipper her limbs for the ceremony. 'Morale boost', or some such shit." Williams smirks and shrugs. "If you don't go, there's no telling when you'll get them."

Jane looks to him and they share a short conversation. 'This could be our big break. Can you get your arm?' 'Will you be okay without giving your legs some time?' 'Well, I'm not waiting around here to blow our chances!'

Decision made, his wife nods. "Tell the Alliance I will only go under the condition of my legs."

Ash chuckles and that smirk widens before she takes an innocent expression, as if they all aren't currently planning something. "What about you Garrus? I figure you'd want to be there too."

'Can you get your arm', is what she's really asking and, knowing his time is short on the Berlin anyways with the approaching discharge out of intensive care for the last turian patient aboard, nods an affirmative.

"There's no place I'd rather be. Doctor Tarin doesn't need me," _anymore_ , he adds in his mind, "for the time being."

Knowing the doctor knows of his plan, of his desire to get off this ship as fast as possible, Garrus isn't sure why will happen when he goes to ask for his arm. Certainly the man who he feels he has some sort of professional report with wouldn't make his life harder by insisting he stay until the final transfer over of the patient when all they are waiting for is the arrival of the turian transport.

"Good to know," the human Spectre says as she stands straight and reaches in her armor for a small, metal flask. "Well, Skipper, what do you say to something to lighten the mood?"

Garrus chuckles at his wife's huge grin as she holds a hand out for it, uncapping and taking a drink, a face twisting her features at the taste and burn. "Jesus fuck, that's bad."

"You mean you don't remember Williams' tradition?" Ashley smirks as she motions to him to drink.

"Right. One round of the cheapest shit before actually being able to celebrate," Jane says as the other woman motions for Garrus to take a drink as well.

He remembers this tradition, remembers falling victim to it too with the rest of the Normandy crew at Flux after Sovereign's attack on the Citadel. Ashley had bought some human whiskey that was like drinking gun oil laced with Ryncol and, tipping the flask now, he concludes that it doesn't taste all that much better with time, perhaps worse.

Coughing, he can admit that something is better than nothing to actually mark their victory and Jane much feel much the same as she holds out a hand for more after he downs a second drink of the burning liquid. Leave it to possibly the worst alcohol humanity has ever created to bring a sense of finality concerning the war.

They _did_ it, truly did it. They defeated an enemy that was thought to be indestructible, odds claimed to be insurmountable. Only now, sharing a drink of some vile tasting alcohol with his mate, does he really feel like a soldier realizing that the war is _won_ , that the Reapers are gone.

"Damn, Ash," his mate says with a slight chuckle. "Not the shit-faced drunk that the end of a war like that deserves, but it definitely marks us as the fucking victors."

The woman chuckles and takes the empty flask, the liquor not enough to get past a slight warm in their bellies. Still, it's, as Jane says, the thought and concept that gives him that celebratory feeling.

"Glad to have been of service. Even if it was sneaking in some liquor." Pocketing the flask, she smiles. "Good to see you both made it out of that hell."

His wife nods and sighs, frowning slightly. "Any word from any of the others?"

"I can offer details on those in the Alliance."

"I'll take whatever news I can get."

"Lieutenant Commander James Vega," she chuckles at their surprise. "Yeah, big shock to me too. From what I hear, he got a bad injury helping pull his men out of mortar fire, but you'd never be able to tell. He's already preparing for N-Training, so I think he's worked up because it messed with his tats."

Garrus chuckles at her playful grin, feeling Jane nudge him and say, "Guess you can't take the name 'Scars' anymore."

He snorts and smirks down at her. "He was just jealous because I was getting all the attention."

She barks a laugh and leans her head on his shoulder as he sits beside her. Ashley, once a woman who he overheard claiming not to be able to tell a difference between animal and alien, even smiles and takes a seat in the empty chair.

"Yeah, he's up and already helping the Alliance until The Villa is reopened. I think the Alliance traded a few N ranks for his help rebuilding and stabilizing nearby areas. A face people recognize from the Normandy vids, you know? I guess that's the same for Kaidan, except I hear he's doing more work helping biotic soldiers, running amps or appealing to the Alliance for more biotic-centric treatments." She shrugs and adds, "I think he's mostly working with those Grissom kids.

"Steve is transporting supplies and men, mostly around London so he can stick close to the Normandy as it's being repaired. Joker has stuck around the Normandy too, but I'm sure you figured that already."

They nod as Jane frowns, taking his hand. "What of EDI? She was up there with me and she said she was putting herself at risk when we made the final move against the Reapers."

"EDI?" Ash asks with a confused frown. "EDI is online, but…something isn't right with her. I'm not a tech, but it's like she's only half there-"

"Because her Reaper code has been fried," his mate interrupts and he looks to her, rumbling in question. Her green eyes turn to him as she sighs and prepares to explain, for the first time, what had happened up on the Citadel. "The Catalyst was the Intelligence, an AI. The Crucible wasn't a weapon, but a communications antenna.

"I won't explain everything because I don't remember half of it, but EDI found a way to alter the coding of the Intelligence so that it self-destructed." She then frowns and runs a hand through her hair. "We didn't know if it would just wipe out the Reapers or anything that had Reaper code… I guess we found out." Seeing her upset at the fact that, in essence, they have one more of their crew injured, possibly unrepairable, he leans over to her and rumbles comfortably. "Yeah. I know, Garrus." She smiles weakly and nods. "We all knew the risks. Still fucking sucks."

"I hear you, Skipper."

"Back on the Citadel, Anderson was there," Jane says as she looks to the Spectre. "What happened to him? Did he make it out?"

Williams' frown tells them before she needs to speak. "He made it out of the Citadel, but it took some time to get him to a medical facility. With his wounds being as bad as they were, he wasn't able to fight off a serious infection."

"Damn," all his mate says, shaking her head with a heavy sigh. Ashley seems to understand, simply nodding in agreement, and he looks between them, numb to the pain of loss of a soldier, but knowing the disappointment of someone falling before their time. Even as a turian raised on the idea that death is just natural for the life of a soldier, it is still disheartening to see those you know lost to war.

Cutting through the silence, he rumbles and smiles warmly at his wife. "We'll raise a glass to him and all the others lost when we're out of here and can share a _really_ drink."

"Yeah, not that shit Williams brought," she adds with a chuckle and teasing smirk at the other Spectre.

Williams simply shrugs it off. "You weren't complaining when you both drank it like water."

He later leaves his mate and Ashley to catch up and plan out their great escape once they are on the surface of Earth. Let Jane catch him up later or just lead him while he follows with complete, blind trust like they always have, he needs to see if he can get his arm or, failing outright asking for it, convince his doctor that his body is healed and ready for it.

Doctor Tarin, when he eventually finds him in the halls, is just stepping out of their soldier's, Lieutenant Sirodan, room. Even if his impatience is slowly winning over him, he does legitimately want to get their soldier taken care of and safely transported off the ship. He can't fool himself into being so cold hearted that he wouldn't at least ensure someone else is returned to their family as he was.

"Doctor," he greets as he rumbles and gives a curt nod. "How is the Lieutenant?"

"The surgery to remove the burned and necrotic tissue was a success and he's healing better than I expected." The older man motions to follow as they walk down the hall and towards his office.

"Any idea when you'll be able to wake him up?"

"I plan to stop his sedatives once he is on the _Salubris."_ Stepping into the office at the man's offered open door, Garrus turns just as the doctor steps in and says, "I suspect you're here for your arm." Garrus hums, like a child caught in a lie, and nods. "Well, I can't say I didn't expect it to happen. In fact, I was starting to wonder _when_ you'd come to me considering how well yours and your wife's implants have healed."

Before Garrus can say anything, the doctor walks across the office to a glass faced cabinet and opens it to remove a large, elongated crate. He waves off any help as he carries it to the utilitarian desk and hefts it up. "I've had quite a few chances to look at this and, I must say, it is one of the best prosthetics I've ever seen. Although, I shouldn't have expected any different with how advanced the tech within your implant is."

Without further explanation, the man snaps open the catches and pushes up the lid, revealing what lays inside. Garrus can't see it from his place, but when he approaches, Tarin steps aside to let him take a look at his new arm.

Secured in a foam insert to cushion the travel, lies an arm that looks as an almost exact copy of his own. No doubt custom, it matched the dimensions of his own right arm, ensuring that one is not larger or in need of length adjustments.

Its surface is smooth metal the color of dark gunmetal, seamless and almost completely void of under inner wiring or hardware save the build of the fingers, wrist, elbow and shoulder to create his joints that will move as fluidly as his natural arm. Along its surface are plates that blend smoothly over the other to create a pattern of faux plating, even down to the talons at the ends of the fingers.

"Someone spared no expenses on this," Doctor Tarin says as Garrus runs his fingers over the cool surface. "I have no doubt that your mate's legs are of the same, fine quality."

"Can we put it on?" Garrus rumbles and looks at the man with a silent plea, his body practically trembling in excited anticipation.

The older turian chuckles and nods, taking the arm from the crate. From the look, it seems like it would be a solid, metal weight he will have to get used to, but, when the doctor handles it, it seems as light as air. Garrus can't wait to get it on his body to feel it for himself.

"Lean down so I can see your port."

When Garrus does, he feels Tarin draw close and, like filled with a static charge, _knows_ when the arm is connected before he even hears the soft hiss of the machinery locking and clicking into place.

He gasps as electricity shoots from his new fingers to the tips of his fringe and down to his toes. Leaning up, he looks down as his hand moves up like it belongs there, fingers flexing and light glistening off its surface.

Unable to help the grin and growl of satisfaction, he balls his hand into a fist and swings a punch forward, feeling the actual sensation on the surface of his arm cutting through the air. That gets him interested in testing something else, so he lays his hand on his face, _feeling_ the scars beneath his fingers.

"Spirits," he says in shock as he trills. "I can feel it."

"Surprising, I know." Tarin actually smiles, the first time Garrus has seen anything but a somber sort of scowl on the man's face these three weeks, and offers a hand in 'may I?' When Garrus nods and offers his hand, he trills again when he feels the sensation of the man's touch as he examines the limb. "Even I didn't think you'd have so much sensation."

"Will this help my wife learn to walk faster?"

He nods and releases his hand, humming in thought. "I suspect her recovery will only depend on regaining strength after so long immobile if her legs turn out to be as responsive as your arm. Part of the problem of relearning to walk with prosthetics is the inability to sense the balance and correct without first learning how to compensate."

However, that won't be a problem for his mate, Garrus realizes. If she can feel her legs as he can feel his arm, then it will only be a matter of regaining the muscle strength as it was for him when he first woke up. With a bit of a support for the first few days and her trademark stubbornness, he sees her walking just as fast as he had back at the Blue Suns base.

"Doctor Tarin," Garrus says with a smile and friendly rumble. "I'm sure you know this is goodbye?"

"I had suspected as much, yes." The man nods and turns his full attention to him.

Rumbling in goodbye, Garrus offers his hand in a human gesture, one that the man takes willingly. "Thank you. Without your help, I wouldn't have been able to remain with my wife."

"I assumed as much, but I am happy to see you actually took your position seriously. Without your help, I would not have been able to get half of the procedures we needed done through the Alliance's medical board." Crossing his arms behind his back, the man gives a curt nod in turian parting. "It is a shame that you must go, I could always use a soldier politician to strong arm their way through."

Garrus chuckles. "Afraid I'm not a very good politician, then. Now, if you'll excuse me, I'm pretty sure my wife is getting her new legs as we speak and I have a new arm of my own to show off."


	9. Chapter 9

-Jane-

She knows something's different about him the moment he walks in the door, in the way he holds his head and in the sound vibrating in his vocals. What she doesn't know, until she sees it that is, is the why.

But, oh damn, when she sees it.

"Holy hell, Garrus," she says at the sight on his shoulder and bounces in the wheelchair, just back from rolling a stroll around the hallways with Ash at her side. She was perhaps a bit too eager to use Williams' status as a - appreciated - human Spectre on and Alliance ship. Still don't want to get into the sudden lack of importance I have now that the war is apparently won.

He chuckles and comes to her, turning and kneeling down to let her run her hands over its smooth surface. The metal is sturdy under her fingers, slick and cool like the finest weapon, its surface gleaming in the overhead lights. Part of her is even starting to explore the options of what her limbs might look like once she gets her hands on them.

"This is fucking sexy and shit." He snorts at that, but she doesn't care as she takes his hand in hers, looking at the intricate mechanisms of his hand and fingers. "I think I'm getting wet just thinking about how awesome mine will be."

"Don't tempt me with that kind of talk," he says with a smile, standing to give her forehead a gentle kiss. "But that does bring up the question of where's yours."

"Right? I've been hounding the damn nurses to bring it to me already, but I haven't heard anything." She sighs and holds out her arms to be picked up, wanting to take advantage of the feeling of being in his arms since they are, still, unable to have any sort of sex. The last thing we want to do is give the damn Alliance more ammunition against us.

He picks her up easily now that he isn't working with one arm and that second arm proves to be strong, solid, and so comforting that it's almost like he never lost it to be replaced by one made of metal and wires. Even if 'Commander Shepard' wouldn't be caught dead being carried, Jane loves the thought, nuzzling against his purring throat as he walks to the bed and sits down with her still in his lap.

He chuckles and flexes his new arm, giving her, too, a chance to keep looking over it. "I can't wait until you get yours. The sensors are incredible. Like this?" His hand, the slight chill of its metal sending delightful shivers down her spine, combs through her hair. "I can feel it just like I would on my right."

"Damn. That is pretty fucking impressive." Running her fingertips from shoulder to tips of artificial talons, she chuckles. "And I think it makes you look even better than the day I met you."

Garrus snorts and growls, taking her hand in his. "Should I be worried about you and the Geth? I hear they're completely made of metal."

Snorting for herself, she hums in feigned consideration. "They do have those sexy flashlight heads, but I guess I'll suffer with you," she adds with a smirk and kisses him.

He opens for her, sliding his rough tongue out and against her own with a growl. Limber muscle wraps around flatter and much more clumsy one and she can't help the moan of want from his taste, from the feeling of him against her lips and tongue. Her own vocal appreciation must urge him own as he, too, moans and tangles his hand in her hair to cup her head, holding her to him as his other grinds her against his hard length buried within his pants.

Fuck it. I don't want to be cautious anymore, let the Alliance know their poster girl has sex with a turian… and loves it. Decision made, she breaks the kiss to tug at his clothes, clumsy with need.

"Eh-hem…" Jane sighs in frustration and drops her head against her mate's chuckling chest.

"Hello, doctor," he says as he rubs her back. "Here with Jane's prosthetics, I hope?"

"I am," the young man, a resident most like, smiles and pulls in a small cart, a crate atop it. "The Alliance has cleared you for new legs, Commander."

"Cleared?" She narrows her eyes in suspicion. "Since when do I have to be cleared to use my own damn legs."

The tanned doctor frowns in confusion and looks at the crate. "I was told the Alliance has approved standard-"

"We had nonstandard prosthetics before the Alliance kidnapped her," Garrus says with a growl, gently setting her on the bed to stand. "They have no right to deny her limbs we got outside of the military, limbs we already have had the damn surgeries for!"

The doctor throws his hands up in silent plea to the massive turian and steps back. "Please, sir. I was only given the orders to bring these to Commander Shepard and help get her accustomed."

Her mate snarls and storms to the box, throwing it open as she crosses her arms. "Doctor…"

"Jain. Doctor Jain."

"Doctor Jain," she tries, forcing her rage to settle as she sees Garrus pull out two very standard prosthetics. "My legs don't belong to the Alliance and, though you might not have anything to do with it, I better see someone who can explain this glorious fuck up."

"And I suggest you do it fast." Her husband stomps to the man and shoves the plastic, rigid limbs that come mass produced for organizations like the Alliance to provide large amounts for multiple soldiers.

Jain panics and holds the legs to chest as he rushes from the room in search of someone with the Brass. It has to be the higher ups trying to screw her over, control her even now, and she is just as ready to hit something as her mate is. She wonders how many more incidents of assault they commit against the high ranking officials of major governments before their 'Saviors of the Galaxy' tokens run out.

Just when she thinks her mate is about to test his new arm out by punching a hole through the wall in rage, the door reopens to admit an officer in his dress blues. "Commander Shepard, Praetor Vakarian. I hear you are unhappy with your doctor's decision of your care."

"Cut the shit," she looks at the suit. "Captain. I want to know where my real prosthetics are and why the hell you people thought I'd suddenly say, 'you know what? I really do like being screwed into some piece of shit legs when I had better ones.' Can't you people just leave me the fuck alone?"

Perhaps she's a bit too desperate for her freedom, to finally be left the fuck alone to live whatever is left of her life. Maybe, just maybe, these days of finding Alliance obstacles at every step are finally starting to get to her. Whatever it is, her mate sees it, must be able to tell her desperation, and it makes him all the more irritable, his vocals growling as he grows tense as a coil ready to be sprung.

"I assure you, Commander, we don't plan to keep your prosthetics indefinitely, only until we deem it-"

Whatever excuse the Captain may be ready to give is completely cut off by the loud crack of plated fist hitting jaw. The man is knocked right off his feet and to the ground, Garrus growling over him as he prepares for the next hit. Whatever that may be, Jane knows it can't happen and is about to move to stop him just as the Captain pulls a weapon, aiming at the unarmed and unarmored turian.

"Don't make another move, turian!" The man spits out blood from his bleeding mouth and gets shakily to his feet. "I don't care who you are, but you have no right!"

Doors fly open in a flurry of nurses and Alliance soldiers coming to tend to the screaming Captain and Jane has a horrible moment of this being it for them, that her mate's anger will have finally been there doom. She's so close to throwing her unused biotics into the mix when a form they know shoves through the throng.

"Everyone, calm down!" Ashley steps between the Captain and Garrus, looking to the older man with a smile. "Captain Eriks, I assure you that this is all a misunderstanding."

"Misunderstanding? This plated beast must have broken my jaw," the man says with a barely there scowl, the obvious expression of distaste painful with his injury. "I'll have him thrown in the brink."

"I understand. However, because he is a turian, and a Spectre, I'm afraid that it's not as simple as taking him into custody." Williams crosses her arms in a parade rest and lifts her chin. "I will be transporting Commander Shepard to Earth and I will take Praetor Vakarian with me. There will be Council repercussions, I assure you."

"Tell them to give me my fucking legs, Spectre. Obviously my own status doesn't get me shit."

Ash doesn't look to her, but gives her a simple nod, either in understanding or just to acknowledge she's heard. Whichever it is, Jane has her only hope in her friend at getting her legs…and her husband out of serious trouble. Going to have to talk to him about pissing off the Brass, even if he just did what I was thinking.

"Doctor?" Ashley looks to the same doctor that had come to them before. "I'd like you to retrieve Commander Shepard's proper prosthetics under Spectre order." Turning her attention to the Captain that clearly isn't approving of the order, she adds, "The Council has matters they would like Commander Shepard to attend to and it would be smarter to have her at her best."

Captain Eriks stews on it for a moment, eyes narrowed in irritation he can't show in his swelling jaw, before huffing in annoyance. "Fine. Get the Praetor off my ship and you can explain to the Admiral why my orders to extend the Commander's recovery has been overridden."

"Understood, sir." She salutes and, reluctantly, the Captain salutes back before being ushered out by the head doctor of the deck and her nurses. When they are entirely alone, Ash turns to them and gives them a stern look, simply asking, "Seriously?"

Jane merely shrugs as Garrus growls, explaining, "They refused to give me my legs and gave me some shit of how I wasn't ready yet. Even I can see they are only doing this to keep me around longer, make sure they can watch my recovery until I'm ready to go off on some mission bullshit."

"And you'd be right." Williams sighs and walks to the chair in the room to sit. "They were holding your limbs, willing to let you keep them on the ship until you are done with your physical therapy, but insisting you use the standard issues while off the ship."

"Typical," her mate says with a growl, pacing the room to run off his energy. "Leave it to the Alliance to try and hold your legs hostage."

"I shouldn't have expected otherwise after they practically kidnapped us from the Blue Suns."

"You were with the Suns? Holy hell."

She shakes her head and chuckles as she leans back on her hands, looking to the other woman. "Not what you think. Remember Arcanus? He's the Blue Suns leader and he owed us a favor, so he was helping us hide up until someone sold us out."

Garrus nods with a low growl, rolling his new wrist as if to get used to the new feel. "That's the first thing on my list when we get out of the eyes of the damn Alliance."

"A fight with the Suns? I thought you were in tight with this guy?"

Jane shakes her head at the woman's confusion, explaining, "They fucked up by turning us in when we were supposed to have a safe haven. Arcanus doesn't protect fuck ups."

"I expect him to find a way of revealing them without actually coming out and saying it," Garrus says as the door opens. "We can plan this later."

"Uh. Commander Shepard?"

"Doctor Jain," she greets with a nod as the man hesitantly enters. "Don't worry, he's under control."

Garrus snorts at that as he comes to the opposite side of the bed, sitting on the bed behind her to lay a hand on her shoulder. "I will keep my hands to myself, honest."

The man still seems worried for his safety, but he remains quiet of his worries as he steps into the room, a much nicer crate in tow. He carries it on the cart to the bed and stops, taking a deep breath before he lifts the lid. A sense of tense expectation fills the room as they all lean forward, Doctor Jain too, to glance in.

Laying in a cushion of foam padding, side by side, are two of the most sleek, sexy legs she's ever seen. Hell, even if they're modeled to fit her physique, they look better than her old legs, so smooth and flawless with their silvery surface.

The closest she can think of to describe these new legs is that they look like EDI's. That brings up sad thoughts of wherever the AI may be and whatever her condition and Jane thanks the AI even now for what she did to save, well, everyone.

Yet, putting aside her regret of the loss of a friend, Jane notices differences too. Her legs aren't as long as EDI's was, probably due to her overall height, and, when her eyes trail to her feet, there are even more differences. Instead of the basic, rounded shape similar to a shoe of a sort, her new feet are just that, feet. Instead of built for looks as the AI's platform was, Jane's feet look like a bare foot, with individual toes even that look like that actually move.

Unable to wait any longer, she grins at the doctor and lays her hand on the smooth, cool metal of her soon to be left leg. "What do you say we put these puppies on?"

Garrus hums happily and Ash grins as the doctor smiles and nods, his nerves melting away as he falls into something he knows. Stepping closer, he gently takes the right leg up and motions her to come to the edge of the bed. "I've read up everything I can on this and the design is meant to be quite simply to connect and disconnect. Better maintenance, I suppose."

"We'll need it if the Alliance has their way," her mate says at her back as he keeps a hand on her back and she scoots to the edge of the bed.

"I'll be sure to give you the manual then," Jain says with a slight chuckle, his voice still stiff from the earlier show. "Ready?"

When Jane nods - a bit impatiently, she'll admit - he comes and crouches down to get a look at her implanted port, taking a moment to look between leg and outlet before lining up and pressing in.

The connection between leg and body is the oddest sort of feeling she's had and will probably ever have in her life. It isn't painful beyond the slight tingling that a limb would do after regaining circulation, the pins and needles sensation flowing from her new toes to her thigh, but what really widens her eyes in shock is the feeling she immediately realizes.

She can actually feel the doctor's hands checking the seal, his fingers are smooth and not at all calloused like the soldiers or ship workers she's spent so much of her past years with. When Garrus had told her of his own feeling, she heard him and listened, but never understood exactly what he meant until now, until this very moment of looking down at her new foot and watching the toes move by her command.

"Holy shit… Holy fuck."

Williams is stunned into silence, staring in awed surprise at the limb as the doctor seems to share her look, if not a bit subdued by having some heads up of the capabilities of the equipment. Garrus is overjoyed by his chirping and purrs, leaning forward to nuzzle her cheek and she gladly reciprocates, grinning like a madwoman.

"I, uh… Let's do the other one?"

"Yes!" She kicks her stump, soon to be a stump no longer, and grips the bed in excitement. Has she ever really been so excited before now, before being able to regain her sense of independence and mobility? Sure, she's had excitement before, but now she just feels like a child, a young girl getting her first… Hell, she doesn't know, she just knows the feeling.

Doctor Jain smiles at her excitement as he fetches the other leg, bringing it to her and placing it into the outlet just as he had the first. The same sensation overcomes her as the nerves connect to synthetic writing and mechanisms and she gasps when all five toes curl, her ankles roll, and knees bend, all under her command and control.

Her mate is right there, smiling at her over her shoulder when she looks to him, and damn if she doesn't truly feel out of hell once and for all. She has her mate, her children - even if they are out of reach right this moment, they are safe - and now her sense of freedom, of usefulness.


	10. Chapter 10

-Garrus-

 

Finally, _finally,_ they are free of the SSV Berlin, flying on a shuttle headed for London.  With limbs installed and a Spectre on their side that will, hopefully, ‘lose’ them in the crowds, they have only one more thing to do before they can truly run from the spotlight and responsibility everyone seems to want to put on the shoulders of two beaten and tired soldiers, their family.  

 

 _One step at a time,_ he has to remind himself as they ride the nearly too cramped shuttle.   _First, we escape, **then** we find my father, Sol, and, most important, our children._

 

“So tell me about this ceremony,” Jane begins as she shifts and scratches her right shoulder, the dress blues loaned to her obviously itching and uncomfortable on her healed burns.  “It sounds like we’re just doing this for the Alliance to wave its dick around.  There isn’t even a ship to unveil.”

 

“The Alliance is unveiling the plans for the SSV Exultance as a sign of our victory in the war,” Ash explains.

 

“And why London?”  He asks as he pays careful attention not to stretch the fabric of his too small civvies and rip it.  “The city was nearly leveled by the war.  It doesn’t seem like the place to have a ceremony to reveal the next Alliance stealth frigate.”

 

Ashley smiles, a sense of pride shining in her eyes.  “London is where the war we won.”

 

“We?  As in the _galaxy_ , or the Alliance?”  He hums in suspicion at her choice of words and raises a brow.

 

“The galaxy, of course,” Williams says with a shrug.  “But it was still on human soil, by an army _led_ by humans.”

 

“It was still an army made up of every species.  It was on Earth soil because that was the highest concentration of Reaper forces, because they moved the Citadel to protect it from the fleets bringing in the Crucible.”

 

“Hey,” Jane snaps at them, crossing her arms.  “It was the combined forces of all the species.  True, it was the Normandy working for humanity that pulled them together and Hackett that led, but it was _not_ a victory humanity earned alone.  Garrus is right in his suspicions, this ceremony seems like the Alliance is just trying to shove a false supremacy in everyone else’s face, but, then again, which species isn’t going the same route?  The public want to see confidence and, even if they’re going about it wrong, the governments _should_ be pretending like they didn’t take a big hit from the war or we wouldn’t have a sense of order in our rebuilding efforts.”

 

He nods and rumbles apologetically at causing a scene while Ash frowns.  “Sorry, Skipper.”

 

“Don’t apologize.  Just tell me about the _other_ reason we’re here.”

 

The other Spectre looks to the closed cockpit door, the pilot having closed it immediately upon their boarding.  Probably to avoid any fallout from the rumored ‘Commander Shepard’s angry turian mate’ should something not go as planned - or _as_ the Alliance planned, as the case may be.

 

“Well, James and Cortez were in the area,” Williams says with a telling smirk.  “They couldn’t miss out on seeing their favorite Commander, after all.”  

 

“Do they know about our grand exit?”

 

“Last I heard, Cortez is ready with a transport shuttle and James has some clothes to help you both blend in.  For all anyone will know, you are both refugees being taken to the workers’ camp after the ceremony.  Have you talked to your family?”  

 

Garrus shakes his head.  “Too risky.  We could have been overheard on the Berlin.”  He grins with a chuckle.  “Now it’s just that we should surprise them.”

 

Jane chuckles and nods, looking to him with a smirk.  “Scaring the crap out of your brother and sister sounds fun, actually.”

 

“Any idea what you’ll do after?” Ashley asks as she leans back against the too comfy seats of the transport, an Officer’s shuttle, no doubt.  “The Normandy is grounded for the time being, I’ve heard.”

 

“One day at a time, Ash.”  His mate stretches, then pulls in her legs, still fascinated with the capabilities of them.  “I don’t think we’ll stay hidden for very long.  All we’re really hoping for is some time alone with our family.”

 

“Yeah.  You’re probably right.”  The dark haired woman frowns.  “It’s only a matter of time before they will start looking now that everyone will now know you’re up and about.”

 

“I suspect it’ll be the Council come looking for us first,” Garrus says with a low, annoyed growl.  “We are still considered Spectres.”

 

His wife sighs and nods.  “Just try to keep them off our backs for a short time, Ash.  We will come out of hiding as soon as we have some time for ourselves.  I don’t really want to fight,” she adds with a frown.  “But I doubt that that will mean shit to anyone.”

 

He growls at that and fists his hands on his thighs as he looks out the viewport.  Why can’t they be given the peace they fought so hard for?  Why, when so many can no live free and burdenless, does he and his mate have to continue to fight, the only change their opposing foe?

 

Jane, always the one to read him, lays her hand on his and he relaxes enough to take it.  He shouldn’t be too surprised to find they won’t find the serenity they expected.  Their names are just too big now, too valuable to be let go, and there will always be something big and bad on the horizon.  

 

It’s dark, gray, and wet when they arrive in London, but Garrus doesn’t know this city as anything else.  The entire time at the Blue Suns camp, he only saw the sun a mere two days, the nights and days filled with ashen clouds or dirt stained rains.  It left a near constant chill in the air that he knows he won’t miss once they find their way off this planet and on to the next, wherever that may be.  

 

They closer they get to their destination and lower they get to the ground, the more the massive amount of people who have come to this ceremony becomes apparent.  There is a giant stage set up and, around it, people stand shoulder to shoulder for a view at what may lay behind the large curtains.  

 

It looks like the perfect place to ‘get lost’.

 

Williams is the first to stand and head to the door of the shuttle, looking back to them with a deep breath.  “You ready for this?”

 

“How you plan on getting us into the crowd?” Jane asks as she gets to her feet, still a bit unsteady and in need of some support for her weight in order to get used to the new feeling of walking after almost five months of no usage of her legs, old or new.

 

“Well,” Ash starts as Garrus stands to offer his arm for his wife to hold onto as a balance.  “I can’t get you out of having to make an appearance for the crowd, unfortunately, but there may be a way to get you off the stage.”  She looks to them as the doors open.  “They still think you have the standard prosthetics, so I suspect we can use those to our benefit.”

 

“Just say they hurt, huh?  Sounds like a plan.”  Jane chuckles.  “I was thinking of saying I have to pee, but that’s better.”

 

“There’s one minor problem I see.”

 

“What’s that?”

 

“Me,” Garrus supplies with a hum, looking to his mate as he explains.  “I’m a turian at an Alliance unveiling.  I won’t be allowed on stage.  I’ll have to be in the crowd, if Ash is the one helping you walk, it wouldn’t make sense that you suddenly disappear in the crowd.”

 

“But maybe we can use that to help us,” Ashley says as she hops down and offers an elbow to step down, Garrus holding his mate as she takes the aid.  “If I’m on stage with you and help you down, then Garrus can wait offstage for you.  Everyone knows you’re mates, so what if we make them believe you are perfectly fine offstage?  That there isn’t any reason to suspect anything besides a man waiting for his wife?”

 

Jane chuckles and nods.  “We might be able to pull it off in the excitement of the unveiling and it wouldn’t make you look incompetent, which is a bonus for you.  Think of it as a repayment for helping us out.”

 

“Gee, thanks, Skipper,” Ash deadpans as they start to walk from the shuttle pad towards the steps that lead down into the crowd, a hand holding the strap of a bag over his shoulder.  “There’s James up ahead.”

 

Following her pointed finger, Garrus chuckles at the large man grinning and waving a hand to get their attention just at the perimeter of the crowd.  “Hey, Lola!  Scars!”

 

“Ah, Vega.  It’s been a long time,” Jane says with a chuckle.  “And he doesn’t look like he’s changed a bit beyond the haircut and uniform.”

 

Helping Jane slowly down the steps, they arrive just as James pushes through the sparse crowd milling about the bottom of the shuttle entrance.  He wraps Jane up in a huge hug, picking her up off the ground before setting her down.  

 

“Damn, Lola.  It’s good to see you,” he says with a grin before looking to Garrus.  “Scars, my man!”

 

Before he can react, Garrus, too, is wrapped in a tight hug, arms and all.  Vega, at least, doesn’t try to lift him before releasing, but it is an odd sort of hug Garrus hasn’t felt before.  He’d also be quite happy not having another constricting embrace like that for a while.

 

“James,” Jane greets with a matching grin, chuckling.  “It’s good to see you up and active.  I hear you’re bound for the villa soon.”

 

“Damn right.  You can bet I’ll be on the first shuttle once they reopen ICT back up.”  He looks to Garrus and crosses his arms.  “I got myself some scars, might be better than yours.”

 

He snorts and lifts a brow plate.  “Jealous because I was getting all the ladies?”

 

James hums and nods once before relaxing, looking the two over.  “I hear you guys took a beating heading to the beam and back, but you look pretty damn good considering.  Hell, you two should be out there kicking some ass!”

 

“Yeah, we’d like a bit of a break for at least _some_ time,” Jane says with a chuckle as Ashley starts to check in with the Alliance men at the shuttle station.  “Us old bastards don’t bounce back as easily as you, Mr Vega.”  Garrus snorts at that.

 

“Yeah, I get you.”  Vega’s eyes widen with sudden realization as he snaps his fingers.  “Right!”  He rolls the pack off his back and opens it, some sort of fabric inside.  “These are your disguises.”  

 

“Disguises?”  Garrus rumbles curiously and reaches in, pulling out a large, fully jacket with a hood for a human and a hooded jacket for a turian, large so it should fit decently.  “Are these for slipping into the crowd?”

 

James nods with a smile and motions the crowd, many of the citizens in the crowd wearing similar to keep the drizzle that is bound to turn to rain from their heads.  “Got you covered.  We’re going to get you out of here and to your little ninos.”  He stuffs the clothes back in the bag and shoulders it.  “Speaking of, how are they?  Have you seen them?”

 

Jane nods and smiles warmly, matching Garrus’ own proud and loving purr.  “We have,” she says as they follow Williams’ motion to move with her through the crowd.  “They’re with Garrus’ family in a small refugee work camp outside of the city.”

 

“Yeah,” he says with a nod.  “I know of it.  It’s a good place, nice considering.”  He chuckles and smacks Garrus’ back warmly.  “I guess that’s why Esteban is hanging around the public transports.”  As they draw close to the transports, Vega stops and looks to them.  “I’ll come find you when I see you making your exit, Lola.”

 

“Sounds good.  Shouldn’t be too hard to find the tall ass turian in the crowd,” his mate says with a chuckle as they turn and continue on.

 

As they had suspected, he is stopped at the base of the stage, Alliance guard telling him that he can stay to wait for his mate, but that he cannot be allowed further.  It’s alright to him, as cooperation pulls away their attention back to the crowd, and it gives him the chance to look around for their way out.  

 

From the way the guards are set up, there is a large space between each pair, large enough so that, if they’re quiet and moving at the perfect opportunity when the Alliance soldiers are distracted, they can sneak into the crowd.  Opening the Omni-Tool that is built into his arm, he tries to remember the channel to Vega and types out a message.

 

‘Jimmy Vega, Male Stripper Extraordinaire.’

 

‘ _Scars?  Is that you, you pendejo?’_

 

He chuckles at that and thanks his memory for numbers and frequencies, replying.  ‘The one and only.  I’m going to need a distraction when I get Jane.  There are guards watching the crowd and, if one is distracted, I can get her out.’

 

‘ _Sure thing.  Just give me the heads up and I’m on it._ ’

 

Closing his Tool, Garrus looks around just as he hears Admiral Hackett begin to address the crowd.  He doesn’t pay too much mind to it, merely catching snippets of the speech that sounds at least less human-centric than he has assumed it would be.

 

“This vessel marks the end of turmoil and the beginning of a new age, an age of species cooperation and peace,” the Admiral says.  “While it may be an Alliance vessel, it will retain the traditions of its sister vessel, the Normandy-” the crowd’s uproar cuts him off from what he may be saying and Garrus assumes that’s where Jane is shining, as a more recognizable symbol for the Normandy and Alliance than the actual namesakes.

 

He still doesn’t like how they parade her name, _her_ , around like an object.  She is his mate, his love, and instead of letting her have her peace, her life, they are treating her more like a lifeless idol than they did before the war.  Before she was a tool to gain the Alliance and humanity recognition and favor, but now she is used to flaunt a victory - not the Normandy, Jane Vakarian, his love and life.

 

“Garrus,” Jane whispers from behind him and he spins to see her and Ash coming down the steps.

 

He rushes to help her, glancing at the guards behind them to make sure they aren’t being watched already.  “You okay?”

 

“Yeah, just a little tired.”

 

“We’re almost out, I promise.”

 

Ashley smiles and looks them over from the steps above.  “Don’t forget that you guys owe me a real celebratory drink.”

 

“As long as it isn’t that shitty whiskey again, Ash,” Jane retorts with a smirk and offers her free hand.  “See you then.”

 

The Spectre takes the hand and shakes it, then giving Garrus a nod in goodbye.  “I won’t say take care because I know you will, Garrus.”

 

He chuckles as he pulls Jane to lean on his side to give him freedom to contact James, getting this plan rolling.  “See you, Ash.”

 

They watch the woman give them a final wave of goodbye before heading back to the stage.  It’s as he starts to help Jane to the line of the crowd that they see James approach, heading to their closest obstacle.

 

“Hey!  Hey, you’re Andy, right?”  He yells, grinning and opening his arms wide.  “Holy shit, how are you man?!”

 

“Sir, I think you have me confused-”

 

“Nah, I know you.  It’s Jimmy!”  Garrus ducks his head to try and look shorter as he chuckles softly, hearing Jane do the same.  As they slip into the crowd, they hear James closing up.  “Damn, really?  I could’ve sworn - Hey, I’m sorry, my man.  We cool?”

 

“Yes, sir.  No harm done.  You have a nice day.”

 

Not making it too far into the crowd, Vega easily catches up with them and removes the jackets from the bag just as the rain starts to fall heavier, fat rain drops soaking into their clothes.  The man offers to take Jane, giving Garrus the chance to pull his on first, zip it up and pull the hood over his head, before they stop and help her dress.

 

Both in their disguises, Garrus is happy to see that Jane blends in perfectly, the too big jacket turning her into a shapeless form as he helps her through the crowd, knees bent and back hunched to look shorter.  Following James isn’t too difficult as he must have made sure to get himself a jacket with a bright over the hood and shoulder for this very reason.  

 

Like three refugees in the crowd of all different species all curious to see what new advancement the Alliance and revealed, they make their way to the public transport pad.  Waiting by a beaten up looking shuttle is a face they recognize, Cortez pulling out his own jacket from the cockpit just as they start to climb up the ramp.

 

“Esteban!”  James throws open his arms, motioning the shuttle.  “Is this piece of crap anything to take Lola and Scars in?”

 

“Shepard and Garrus?”  The other man smiles widen and comes to them, hugging Jane warmly before offering a hand to Garrus.  “I’m so happy to see you both.  We were all so worried about you, but I’m happy to see you’re okay.  I just knew those KIA rumors weren’t true.”

 

“You know us, we just don’t die,” Jane says with a chuckle and shrug.  “Like fucking roaches.”

 

He chuckles and motions the shuttle.  “Your ride awaits.  It doesn’t look like much, but this baby will get us to the work camp before they will even notice you’re gone.”


	11. Chapter 11

-Jane-

The workers' camp is so neat and tidily organized that it gives Jane the feeling that, perhaps, the near compulsive organization habits her husband has, even now, must be a turian thing, not just a Garrus thing. The setup of the camp is familiar, but not exactly like many of the Alliance organized camps that tend to be set up in an orderly grid of small prefabs to all face on direction. In this turian design, there are smaller groups of homes all lined up before another, a higher up it seems, that all make up a larger whole.

She isn't all that surprised to see that, even here, there is order and hierarchy. Even a proclaimed 'bad turian' like her mate has some urgent need for things to have order and purpose. For some strange reason, the sense of control this camp seems to have over - even if such a small matter - things is calming, gives her the sense of peace that she didn't feel on the Berlin.

For what it's worth, even the shitty - when compared to their old transports - shuttle Cortez is taking them over the camp in is a break from the pain of the past month of Alliance bullshit she was having to put up with. Everyone can take away the fancy ship, special treatment, and high risk-low reward missions, she would gladly take up this life right here so long as she has her family.

"Steve," she says as she looks out the small viewport alongside her mate, watching the camp come back around as they circle and drop down towards the shuttle pad. "How often does the Alliance come to this camp?"

"Not very often," the pilot answers as his hands work over the commands. "The population here is mostly turian, so they tend to help organize and keep manners under control. There are the occasional deliveries of more refugees, prefabs, or supplies on top of the daily transport shuttles to and from the city, but those shuttle pilots are usually contractors."

"Sounds like the Alliance doesn't really have much influence here." Garrus rumbles and looks to her as the shuttle begins to slow. "We might just be able to hide here, after all."

"At least for a short while," she agrees with a nod. "Or until someone fucks it up for us."

Cortez chuckles as the shuttle bucks a bit before setting down, where he then turns to face them. "Hey, when that happens, let us know. We're always around to bust you guys out."

They both chuckle as she nods, Garrus helping her tired self up to her feet. "We'll remember that. Let the others know our comm channels to get in touch."

"I'm sure they'd rather see you," he prods, but nods as stands ups and opens the shuttle hatch, hopping down.

Once the three are out, the rain still coming down hard, Steve looks to them and holds out his arms. She's not one for too many hugs, but she guesses there can be one for each person at least and steps forward.

Cortez's hug is quick and to the point, so tight squeezes of Vega or lingering from a lover. Just a simple pat on the back before parting and the man taking Garrus' hand in a shake.

"You guys take good care down here. I'll try not to stop by and ruin your cover." He chuckles. "We gotta share a drink one day, though."

"Count on it," her mate agrees with her nod in understanding. "Until then, Cortez."

Walking slowly into the camp, they look for the closest thing to a superior. Even here, in a place that is meant as a home, they expect there to be at least one person to keep things tidy and clean. This is, after all, a camp that looks strictly turian run and, if there's one thing she knows about turians, it's that they love to make sure things keep to a traditional set of standards.

When they dive deeper into the camps, heads down, Garrus stops her with a soft hand on hers in his arm and rumbles. "I see someone up ahead in uniform," he says as he jerks his head towards what looks like a turian soldier, his uniform dirty and grimy from work, but without any sense of need to be anywhere but walking the path between the prefabs. "I'm going to go ahead and try to get info."

"Keep your head down. Those scars are easily recognizable."

"Maybe, but not as easy to place as your image." Looking around, he motions her to sit on the steps of a prefab to get some damn rest she shouldn't need. _When the hell am I going to be able to walk on these damn legs without help?_

She knows that perhaps she shouldn't be expecting to run sprints on new legs after five months of bed rest, but she just _despises_ the fact that she's so damn slow while everyone just walks on by, no need for the help of their turian husband to get around. Not really something she should be complaining about right now, but she thinks she's allowed at least one time of acting like a petty child.

With a sigh, she takes the seat and watches with a sideways glance as he walks to the soldier and begins to speak. Watching him proves to be more entertaining than she had thought, the way he pays close attention to keep his height down and his head shadowed by the hood being pummeled by the rain making her almost believe he was a refugee like all the others. Had she not known him, she'd think he just a man trying to get out of the rain and cold.

He has success, she sees, when the soldier nods and points in a direction further up ahead and slightly off to the left. His mouth and mandibles move as he obviously has to shout over the heavy thumps of rain on their heads and loud patter against the metal roofs, but it must be heard as Garrus nods and turns to leave. Coming to her, she hears his rumbling chuckle as he helps her up.

"What's so funny?"

"He not speaking Palaveni worked to my advantage," he explains as he helps her walk, she only imagining how she must look walking on the arm of a turian as if a haggard, exhausted old woman. "He barely understood a word, but 'Vakarian' got through. They live further up and to the north by two rows."

She nods and smiles under her own hood. "I don't know about you, but this is the _last_ time I'm separated by the kids. Anymore and we'll miss their first birthday."

Garrus hums and nods. "I don't know what the importance in their first year is, but I don't want to miss another day we aren't with them. They are already eight months old and we've only been with them less than half that with the war and aftermath."

Her hand in his clenches in anger. "Damn Alliance." He rumbles in agreement, a sound she barely hears over the rain, and nods.

Talking takes up more of her energy than walking alone, and she really wants to move out of the rain and to family, so their decision is already made before they silently agree to a comfortable silence occasionally broken by the soft directions of her mate as he both leads and helps her traverse the slick mud. Just as her thighs begin to give her problems again, he stops and tilts his head up just enough to see clearly.

"Echo seventeen," he says as she follows his eyes to see an E-17 emblazoned on the front of a metal, paint covered to make it look homelier, prefab. "This should be them."

"Want to have the honors?"

He nods and reaches out, banging his fist hard on the door in a three beat knock. At first, there is no sound and she frowns in disappointment at having the obviously wrong home - or that they aren't here, which is more concerning - but then they hear something. Could it be?

 _Yes,_ it's the cry of infants.

Sure, it _could_ be another family's children, but something deep down just _knows_ that's not the truth. Grinning from ear to ear, her hand tightens in his and she feels his own squeeze back as his shoulders shift in what she believes is a deep, anticipating breath.

Suddenly, they hear a voice from within. "Yes, dad. I got it." The door opens to a very familiar female turian as she continues to look over her shoulder as she says, "Just try to soothe Cass-"

She stops as she turns to them and trills with a jump. It takes a moment of wide eyed staring before she trills even louder and _squeals_. "Garrus! Jane!" She practically screams as she throws herself out into the rain and grabs them each, practically slamming her mandible to Jane's cheek before her own brother's in familial greeting. "How - You know what? I don't care! You're here!"

Garrus chuckles and smiles, nodding. "Care to let us in? It's awfully cold and wet out here."

Solana gasps and nods, grabbing their wrists and nearly yanking Jane off her feet as she drags them into the prefab, almost too small for the four of them plus two infants. "Dad! Dad! Come look who's here!"

"Sol," her father admonishes quietly as he comes out, chirping and rocking a wailing Cassia. "Please, my ears can't take _you_ screaming," his eyes widen as he sees them, dropping the little toy book on the floor in shock as he whispers, "too."

"Hey, dad," Garrus says with a warm chuckle. "Need help?"

"Spirits, _yes_."

In that instant of hearing her father's voice, little Cassia stops sobbing and looks to the newcomers. Jane almost laughs at the process of confusion, recognition, and elation that passes over the little one's face, her vocals screaming in happiness as she kicks in her grandfather's arms and reaches out.

Her mate's loving purr as he meets his father halfway is absolutely beautiful and Jane can't help the warm feeling from her belly blossoming out, a warmth that even the chill from the rain can't seem to subdue. Looking to Titus and Sol for a baby of her own, she quickly excuses herself.

"I'm sorry, but I _have_ to see my baby," she says as she _politely_ rushes past Titus standing in the open kitchen and into the room behind it, a small master bedroom with a dual crib taking up a large portion of the corner.

Within, Damocles stands against the bars and cries for all he's worth, screaming as his vocals grate on her ears. His eyes are clamped shut, so he doesn't see her as she walks in, her voice ringing out as she pushes off the wet jacket and comes to the crib.

"Sh, sh… It's okay, little man," she soothes softly, hearing his sobs cut off mid wail and his eyes widen in confusion. "Mommy's here."

Her son sniffles and whines, bouncing in place just before she takes him into her arms, saying calming nothings the entire time. Upon reaching her chest, he immediately clings to her with toes and fingers, head burrowing into her shoulder.

"There, there. Everything's okay." Legs unable to keep up forever in their current, exhausted state, she sits on the almost too small bed to comfortably bed two and rubs the little child's back. "Mommy and daddy aren't going anywhere ever again. Never again."

"That's a promise." She looks to the voice and smiles at her husband coming to her side, a calm and purring Cassia in his arms. "Dad and Sol said they haven't truly calmed since we went with the Alliance. Getting them to stop crying to sleep or eat has been a struggle."

"They missed us."

He nods and smiles, leaning over to kiss her. It feels good to finally be at home somewhere that isn't a medical camp or warship, even if it's a cramped bedroom in his family's prefab in a refugee working camp.

"I hope we aren't interrupting."

Even if she'd like to say that, yes, they technically _are_ interrupting, she won't deny her mate's family their own chance to come to terms that they are _finally_ here, away from the grasp of their health or the Alliance at least for now. So she smiles and shakes her head as Damocles chuffs and chirps, relaxing in her arms. "Not at all."

Titus must understand the need to want to be alone with their children because he gives his daughter a look that clearly says to be quick before he says, "Sol and I don't mean to take away from this chance to be with the children, but I wanted you both to know you don't have to worry about trying to find a way into your own prefab at least for a while. You deserve to not have to immediately get to work."

"Dad," Garrus starts with a rumbling frown. "This can't be big enough for that-"

Sol flicks her mandibles as she cocks her hips, hands on their juts. "Spirits, Garrus. Don't be stubborn. We have a cot we use as a couch and there's a room big enough for a second bed, so we're good. I'll take the cot and dad the bed, you both should take this bed to be with the babies."

"Yes, well. Sol and I will have to discuss our own arrangements, but she's right. You both need a chance to rest before you put yourselves through any _more_ work. You fought for four years straight, it's time for a break from action, whatever that may be."

She and Garrus look to each other before Jane sighs. "Fine, but we'll be out as soon as we get bored of sitting around on our asses."

"Which I have a feeling won't be long," Garrus adds before covering her thigh with his hand. "Something just tells me we aren't the ones to stay of action, even if it's just helping to rebuild like the rest of the camp."

His father hums in thought at that, but nods. "I think the babies will fall asleep in no time with how little sleep they have had. Once that happens, try to give yourselves some relaxation together." Something about the way his voice goes gravelly and Garrus' curt nod and growl makes her think this is one of those turian things. _'Give ourselves relaxation'? Together?_

She figures she'll find out soon enough what that really means as Titus ushers Sol out and pulls the thin divider that is supposed to be a door closed. Looking to her mate, she raises a brow. "What did he mean?"

"About?"

"That thing you two did. His voice dropped and you growled at him, but it wasn't an angry, combative growl."

He chuckles and looks to her. "What kind of growl was it, then?"

"I have no fucking clue, that's why I'm asking you. Wait." She blinks in surprise as she goes back over the phrasing and words used. "Was he telling us to fuck?"

Snorting, he laughs and nods. "He didn't really know how to say it, but I understood it well enough from his vocals. What gave it away to you?"

"'Relaxation together' sounds a lot like 'ease tension together' and _that_ is one of your sayings."

Smirking, he leans closer to her ear, voice that low growl that sends wet heat from her belly down. "Is that a yes? Because I can already see Damocles is asleep and I'm pretty sure Cassia is not far behind."

"Damn right it's a yes," she says with a smirk of her own as she nibbles on the prong of his mandible. "I've been waiting four damn weeks to do it."

He chuckles and leans back, looking down to their son with love in his eyes. "Joking and our later plans aside, it really is good to be back here with them. No matter where we may be, I have found my peace with you and them. No war or its aftermath can change that."

Smiling, she lifts a hand to caress his scarred cheek. "I have found home with you and they are the happiness I never thought I'd have. A happiness you have given me."

"You know that, one day, we will have to go back," he says with a frown and dejected sigh. "They know we are alive… and everything seems to fall apart without you."

"Us."

"What?" He looks to her in confusion, rumbling questioningly.

"It falls apart without _us_. You keep me together." She kisses him as she runs a hand over their son's barely there fringe. "Without you, there would be no Commander Shepard to help pull people's asses out of the fire. You're like the ground beneath my feet, the air in my sails."

"Air in the what?"

She snorts. _Leave it to a water-fearing turian not to know phrases concerning seafaring vessels._ "How about 'you are the Eezo to my drive core'?"

He chuckles and kisses her. "Now it sounds like you're just making things up."

"Whatever works," she replies with a smirk and shrug before laying back, to watch Damocles sleep in her chest. "Now just relax with me and our children."

She hears his purr as the bed shifts under his weight, his hand taking hers as they lay side by side with their children atop their chests. "There's no place I'd rather be."

Jane nods and smiles, squeezing his hand as she looks over to catch his icy blue eyes. "I love you, Garrus Vakarian."

"I love you too, Jane Vakarian."


	12. Chapter 12

-Jane-

The bed may be small, the sheets scratchy and smell slightly stale, and the cramped room be filled with a chill thanks to the metal walls and cold outside, but it is the best kind of home she could ever ask for, here in her husband's sleeping arms with their children within arm's reach. Surprisingly enough, the limbs they were so impatient to have aren't actually on and sit beside the bed, but she wouldn't have expected to have them disturb the warmth of their huddled forms.

Beneficial they may be in moving and living normally, they aren't too helpful in a cramped bed with their cold surfaces and capability to be easily removed. Besides, it's the fact that _they_ are the ones to decide when they go on and come off that makes all the difference from feeling truly free to being trapped in immobility thanks to the Alliance holding their limbs over their heads.

Head on his arm, Jane smiles as she runs a hand over her mate's chest, tracing edges of scarring on both sides from different injuries that actually seem all too similar. Where one comes from the rocket, and resulting shrapnel, of a gunship, the other comes from the explosion - and, again, shrapnel - of a Mako. Two too many close calls, but what in their lives wasn't a close call? Wasn't one that could have been _the_ one?

It's not something she can easily dwell on, not something that wouldn't take up hours of what ifs and what abouts. It's not something she _wants_ to let herself fall into and be unable to come back out of until she's ridden with guilt and regret, so she forces herself to 'stop, dammit' with a stern shake of her head and deep breath. She will _not_ ruin this moment digging up past mistakes and those things she can't change anyways.

When she looks back on the scars sweeping over Garrus' chest and over his left side or disappearing into the sheets on the right side he sleeps on, she doesn't see the deep furrows of pain and failure, but the beauty of life, of survival. They are _alive_. Scared, yes, but they made it out onto the other side, which is more than so many other poor souls.

 _We were never winning any beauty pageants, anyways_ , she thinks as she smiles and caresses his cheek with her knuckles. _He is beautiful to me and I to him not for how we look, but who we are… And anyone who says his scars are anything_ _ **but**_ _sexy as hell are either blind or talking out their ass._

Chuckling softly at where everything has brought them, she thinks back to the meeting that almost didn't happen if not for a bystander that believed a human soldier minding her own business was not good enough to breathe their same air. From a bench on the Presidium thinking she was going to be strong armed by the C-Sec officer to laying in that very officer's arms, bonded, married, and parents of two little children.

She'd have laughed in anyone's face who had told her things would come out as they had.

Laying here, she is able to watch as consciousness slowly drags her mate from his slumber. His heavy, rumbling breaths - something she akins to a snore - slowly cease as he releases a heavy breath and his body shifts, arm beneath her head curling to pull her closer. When she feels him nuzzle the top of her head, she smiles and speaks.

"Good morning."

He hums and relaxes a bit to look down to her. "Morning. How long have you been awake?"

"Few minutes. Thought I heard the babies waking, but it must have been the dream I was having."

Garrus chuckles and kisses her hairline, gently nibbling. "What an interesting dream," he deadpans.

Snorting, she lifts a brow and quirks a smirk. "Alright, smart ass. What did _you_ dream about?"

She knows turians don't dream quite the same as humans unless under stress or, in her mate's case, they are connected to a dreaming human's mind thanks to some Leviathan tampering with their brains. Still, she knows he understands when he hums in mock thought and shifts, moving to hover over her on his one hand.

"Let's see," he says with a smirk and low, very low, thrumming in his chest that sends wet heat straight down between her legs. "I think it's better to _show_ than tell."

"Oh?" Wanting to play, she smirks and lifts a brow. "And what will you show me?"

Instead of answer, he growls and lowers to his forearm, ducking his head to press to her lips. A soft lick of his tongue is all that's needed before she is sighing and giving him access, that long, rough tongue of his sliding in and curling around her own, his thrumming growls vibrating along their joined tongues.

It's been far, far too long since they've been alone and free of any possible interruptions or healthy enough for this and she can't stand it, can't keep up the nonchalance of the game. Let them play next time because, right now, all she wants is the movement of her hands as they slide up his face on their own, one hand rubbing beneath his fringe as the other caresses the soft, silky smooth hide along the underside of his mandibles.

He moans and it's the sweetest sound, one she echoes as her thighs press together to try and ease some of that ache building up the wetter and hotter she gets. Her kiss gets more desperate, hungrier, as she practically tries to swallow the thick muscle, bobbing over it in mimicry of what she'd do to an entirely _different_ muscle if it were between her lips. His hand tangles in her hair as he moves with her mouth, catching on quick as he flicks and thrusts his tongue - his own miming of what he'd do in a different position.

It's getting to be too much, the time, the sensations, and, now, the heavy weight of wet heat against her belly as he slides out of his sheath. She moans, missing that huge blue length like a drowning man needs air, and slides a hand over his now mechanical shoulder and down over his waist before sliding it over his belly and cupping him against her skin, stroking.

At her touch, her husband grunts and thrusts, panting as he buries his face in her neck. She has a moment to smirk in slight victory before his teeth and tongue run along her pulse, sending little shocks down her spine, causing her own hips to jerk in time with her gasp.

"Dirty trick," she whispers as she wraps her fingers around him, stroking from base to tip and back down, her hand slick in his lubricating fluids.

He moans as she feels his mandibles spread and back arch. He doesn't answer her, is in too much need and she doesn't blame him, but what he _does_ do is probably one of the hottest things she's seen in a while as he starts to thrust into her fist. Sure, she's had more pleasure from that cock thrusting into _her_ , but having him so desperate for release after so long that he's practically thrusting with abandon is having her make a nice little puddle of her own juices on the sheets.

"Fuck… fuck me, Garrus."

That finally gets him to chuckle as he comes to a shaky stop. "One thing first." Lifting a brow at him as he raises his head, she is about to ask what that is when he lowers his hips to lay his length nestled along her folds. "Move your hand."

"You aren't even lined up right."

"No, but I want to at least get one out of you because I'm not sure how long I'll last with so many thing working against my endurance," he says with a chuckle and smirks as he thrusts his hips, making those amazing ridges rub against her clit.

"Holy… fuck…"

He chuckles again, damn him, but saves himself so might rage when he continues to do that, growling in her ear as he thrusts against her. She moans as she can feel ease pass of every single over of the underside ridges on him, the rise and fall sending little sparks up her body that make her jerk with each one. Soon, she's jerking and twitching each time, teetering right on the edge.

"You smell so damn good," he whispers, voice barely recognizable through that growling purr from his vocals. "Cum for me, Jane. I want to smell more of you."

And, damn him, if that fucking voice isn't what throws her over as she cries out, arching like a drawn bow. Her hips buck against him and she whines as her walls clench around nothing, fingers digging into his fringe and hip as everything washes over her like a tidal wave. She doesn't seem to have control of her body as it can't decide if it wants to pull away or grind against him, too much and too little all at once firing through her brain.

As she comes down to a twitching, moaning mess, she feels his weight lift from her as he takes to his knees and elbow. Purring, he nuzzles to her cheek, vocals still heaving with arousal and hunger. "You need a moment?"

Shaking her head, she swallows heavily and forces out a weak chuckle. "Hell no. Let's… let's do this."

He nods and leans up to let her reach down and take him in hand. Unable to stop herself, she strokes him, letting her fingers feel the contours of him she should know like the back of her own hand, but seems to always find like a new experience each new time. It's only when she hears his panting groan that she concedes, ceasing her pumps to line him up.

Setting his tip at her entrance, she takes a deep breath to calm herself and nods, releasing as he presses in, wide length pushing through her, spreading her walls almost beyond their ability to fit him as he fills her. Both moan at the feeling, a too tight channel constricting around a too large length and both should be too alien to be compatible, but it's one that feels like a drug each and every time.

His growl is deep and gravely as he presses his mouth to her ear and slowly pulls back, thrusting in with a slick smack. She loves that he's too hungry to let her grow used to him, forcing her walls to relax by sheer force that drives him, and she moans as her hands grip him, one on each shoulder.

"So tight… so hot," he whispers huskily in her ear. "We shouldn't fit, but you will take me. You always do."

"Because you feel so fucking good," she responds with a smirk, squeezing her walls and making him groan. "Now fuck me like you haven't had sex in five months."

" _That,_ I can do."

Hearing his feral growl sends shivers down her spine just as he lifts to his knees and takes one of her thighs in hand, pressing it to her stomach, giving him a deeper angle. She moans at that hitting her in a different way, her walls still so sensitive from the first climax, and he gives her just that single moment before he's moving.

His thrusts are hard and quick, like a jackhammer pounding into her walls, and the sounds their wet joining makes only makes it better, echoing with their moans and his growls in her ears. Fingers gripping the sheets hard enough to go white, she is left to do nothing but take it, the lack of legs putting her entirely at his mercy.

She's never thought of anything being so intimate as being stripped bare to their new physical forms and embracing it in a moment like this, their bodies coming together in the most basic way.

Overcome with intense need to be closer to him, she grabs his neck and pulls, rolling them to their sides. They never part, he never stops completely, and soon he has her thigh pulled over his hip as they kiss, bucking and grinding together as their tongues fight and moans tangle.

His hand cupping her ass helps to shove her onto him as he thrusts forward and the air is shoved out of her lungs with a gasped whine each and every time he comes flush, only to pull back out and do it again. She can hear that he's close, his voice now just vocals as his kiss becomes more demanding, plates biting at her lips and tongue shoving against hers, and she moans at the thought of being filled, quite literally, with him.

The thought alone sends her into a fervor, bucking against him as she cries out. Her own constricting and clenching walls pulls him over with her, his snarl loud as he clamps gently onto her throat and shoves in completely. Distantly, she can feel it, feel when the base of his cock starts to swell, growing with each rapid beat of his heart and seed as he fills her twice over.

Whines are pulled from her as he gently licks at her neck, where the sweat of the morning has collected and pooled. It's a slow climb from the sweet abyss of bliss from the first sex with him after so long, the final puzzle piece of their life falling into place, but she starts to come to with the feeling of him releasing the soft grasp of her neck in his mouth.

His purr in her ear and hand along her rear and thigh, she chuckles and smiles. "Damn. You fuck good."

Moment broken, he snorts and chuckles. "Knew you kept me around for something."

"Damn right," she agrees with a smirk and runs a hand down his mandible. "We should do this more often."

"I plan to," he says with a smirk back before pressing his forehead to hers and closing his eyes.

It's a while before he speaks again, this time about something she hadn't expected him to consider. "I want to work in the rebuilding camp. To help in a way that isn't fighting, but rebuilding, maybe learning what I need in order to build our family a home."

He wants to learn to build their family a home to raise their children in, a place to truly feel is and call their own that _isn't_ a warship. To say she's surprised would be to deny the man he is, the caring, responsibility driven man she fell in love with, but she'd never expected he'd actually want to _build them a home_ , with his own two hands.

"You…"

He chuckles and nods, purring as he glances to the crib. "We fought a war to give our children a galaxy to live in. Compared to that, a house shouldn't be too hard." Smiling as he looks back to her, he caresses her cheek with his palm before kissing her. "I want to do this for you and them. You can help, but I take the lead. Let me do this for you and them this time."

"Garrus, you've already done a shit load for us-"

"And I will do much more before my life is over."


	13. Chapter 13

-Garrus-

"Alright, Nemos. This last one and I'm calling it for you. No need throwing your back out to impress the Commander." The head of the cleaning crew, a short man with a slight limp during the heavy rains like today, motions to move the heavy slab before him.

Sirus Nemos, a name he's taken in order to try and distance himself from 'Garrus Vakarian' in attempts to gain some peace and quiet without being connected to the supposed war hero. He's pretty sure many easily recognize him - hard not to with his famous scars and blue colony paints - but, if they do, they don't say or do anything to make him believe they will alert any of the searching governments where he and his mate are. A good sign, he openly admits, because those organizing the cleaning and rebuilding efforts as well as running the camp are some he is sure have seen through his less than thorough disguise.

He could try harder to blend in, but what could he do? Sure, he could remove his paints and go barefaced, he doesn't mind the idea, but that still leaves the extensive scarring along his jaw and neck that is a dead giveaway because he's one of the few turians that actually live with the visualizations of their past failures and mistakes.

At least he is left alone to work, and his hood pulled over his head keeps most of the prying and curious eyes off him when he goes out to the fields to carry rubble off the streets. The first week or so was painful, his back not used to the weight being put on it again after so long doing nothing but bureaucratic delegating between the Hierarchy and Alliance. Once he got used to it, however, he fell into such a comfortable and efficient routine that he was often left to do his own thing while the head of this sector of work, Yarik, often left him alone to himself.

It also helped that his arm was helping him do the work of two men.

Lifting up the last of the slab of concrete strut, suspected to be part of one of the neighboring buildings by the rebar jutting from its center, Garrus carries it with a deep rumbling of understanding to his 'boss'. This sector of their cleaning effort is tending to some offices, left standing with only superficial damages, and, slowly, their days of hauling rubble onto large trucks to be taken and repurposed have begun to show.

The street, once piled high with dead Reaper forces and debris, is actually visible, the cars crushed beneath to be hauled away at a later date, and he is starting to see, in these little changes, how the galaxy is finally beginning to rebuild. He wasn't before, not when all he say of the supposed 'rebuilding' was nothing but news vids of gossip - aimed at them - or the puffed up showings of governing bodies trying to flaunt their own efforts at returning to the norm before the war.

After he hefts the heavy concrete chunk onto the truck, he takes a step back and looks up into the rain to the peaks of the buildings above as they rise into the gray and heavy clouds. The water falling is cold, but refreshing as he closes his eyes and lets his aching muscles soak in the soothing chill.

"Nemos," Yarik comes to him and lays a hand on his shoulder. "You good?"

He looks down to the shorter man and nods. "Yeah. Just… enjoying the view," he says with a chuckle, hearing the other man rumble in amusement even as he tries to give an exasperated mandible flick.

"Yeah, well, enjoy it at the camp." The older man motions back down the long street to the distant shapes of the tents of camp. "Your day is over. You're no good to me if you get yourself hurt."

Garrus chuckles and nods with an agreeing rumble. "Let me know when everything starts to fall apart thanks to my leaving early."

The man scoffs and waves a dismissive hand as he turns away, walking back to the others. He is a good man, Garrus thinks. Pretty sure that Yarik was the first to figure him for who he was due to the amount of time having to work together cleaning up a city that doesn't even belong to their people, he never treated Garrus any different from the other refugee workers, acting like he _hadn't_ noticed the obvious similarities to one of the most important turians during the war.

It was a life Garrus has wanted since he and his wife had made plans to retire after surviving the war.

The walk may be a bit of a long one considering the falling rain, but it gives him time to think, to enjoy the soft patter of rain on his hood as the only sound above his breathing. He doesn't know when the last time was that he had the chance to just listen to the galaxy around him without trying to decipher the sounds of hostiles within the silence. It feels nice, relaxing,

He doesn't know what London looked like before everything, before the Reapers entered the Sol System and took control of Earth, but he _can_ remember what it looked like before and, looking at it now, he can admit it looks exponentially better. It gives him high hopes for Palaven should he ever go back. Not that he isn't happy for his father and sister whenever he manages to get them back home.

Walking through division between Echo and Delta sectors of the camp, he notices someone out of place standing in the pathway before his family's prefab. Already, he's on edge, but what makes him _know_ that this person brings nothing but bad news is the state of her person.

Where everyone in the camp, including himself, wear either the tattered and barely holding together civvies found or given by the Alliance or the unkempt armors of those soldiers able to actually keep a kit not completely ruined, this female is dressed in a fine set of violet and black armor. She is a tall, slender woman with sweeping purple colony paints he somewhat recognizes as a Palaven city's insignia, but, other than that, he has no clue who she could be or what she wants.

Whatever it is, he knows it's not something he wants to hear.

He growls as he steps into the pathway between the facing prefabs, his mandibles tense, and approaches her as calmly as he can. On said approach, she looks up from her flippantly examining her glove and smirks.

"Why, Praetor Vakarian," she says with a haughty growl. "What a pleasant surprise to see you slumming it down in a refugee worker camp. I assume your mate is around here somewhere too-"

"How did you find us?" He snaps, cutting her off from whatever it was she would have stupidly said to get herself acquainted with his fist.

She hums and leans up from the wall of the prefab where she had been leaning as she waited. "It wasn't too hard. Though, I must admit, I hadn't expected it to be so easy. All I had to do was track down your father and sister." She chuckles with a smirk. "Leave it to the rest of your family to be traditionalists and be ready and willing to help with the rebuilding effort immediately. All I had to do was find track their refugee registrations here and then I'd have _persuaded_ them into telling me where you both were hiding. But I didn't think you'd be stupid enough to stick around here and save me the effort."

The tone of her voice and way she says it has his plates burning hot with a low growl. "Say whatever you want about me, but don't you dare insinuate threats towards my father and sister again. I have a whole new arm I've been itching to test out around someone's throat and you seem the perfect volunteer."

She snorts and crosses her arms, smirk in an unamused scowl. "And what do you think killing a fellow Spectre will bring you?" She lifts a brow plate with a low hum. "Quite the twist that the two Spectres known for taking down the rogue Saren go rogue because they forget that a Spectre is until death."

Damn her, she's right. He can't risk putting his family in danger when there is every guarantee that there are others who already know where they are now. Their only chance would be getting off the planet, but that presents an entirely new problem of how and where. "What do you want?"

"The Council demands your presence. From what I hear, there are messes you both made during the war that need to be cleaned up."

Garrus scoffs and growls. "Tell them where they can put that demand of theirs. In case they haven't heard, Jane and I don't work for them anymore. We want the peace we deserve."

"What you _deserve_ is to be taken to trial for abandoning your posts as Spectres," she says with a growl, dropping her arms. "But they're going easy on you because our numbers are so small now. I don't think they should be so lenient when you practically went AWOL, rewarding you because you're some damn 'heroes'. Being a Spectre is for your lives, you don't walk away from that."

"Save your lectures of our supposed duties," he interrupts with a low growl, closing in on her. He is twice her size and twice as intimidating with his scars and bulk, but she doesn't move and remains between himself and his home. "Get out of my way."

The Spectre woman stares up at him for a moment before she turns aside and gives him his access to the small prefab he shares with his mate and family. He is just at the door sensor when she speaks again.

"You know, I find the rumors around the camp about this little prefab very interesting." He stops and looks to her with narrowed eyes, trying to gauge what she's planning. When she sees that, she smirks wickedly. "I hear someone in your family has two little precious children."

With a snarl, he tightens his fist, fighting the instinct to swing. If he does, he's as good as admitting they're his and he can't put them in that danger, not until he knows exactly what sort of suspicions this woman has.

So he stays quiet despite his low, threatening growl. He can't stop _that_.

She chuckles and crosses her arms, cocking a hip in satisfaction. "Now, I deduced your father couldn't possibly be responsible for these children, seeing as how his mate unfortunately passed." Garrus growls at that, flicking his mandibles angrily at the mention of his mother, something strictly off limits, but can't move against the woman as she starts to walk a short path in the mud. "So that left you or your sister. Spirits, with their ages, one child might belong to each of you."

The woman stops and looks to him, eyes narrow as she lays down her suspicions. " _Or,_ to explain the missing partner for her and your human mate, one of you could have adopted. But imagine my surprise when _neither_ of your files, not even your mate's, shows any sign of paperwork concerning an adoption - pending or otherwise - which can only mean you have those children illegally."

He spins on her and demands with a growl so strong that it almost renders his speech completely incomprehensible, "And your point?"

If anything, his reaction only gets a wide smirk of victory from the woman. "My point? My point is that you have two options. Either you come with me and I'll look the other way about those children or you don't and I take those children with me to the Hierarchy where they belong."

"Over my dead body," he snarls and storms the distance between them, feeling the muzzle of a gun in his belly as he wraps his hand around her tiny neck. "Try it. All it takes for me is a little snap while you have to wait for me to bleed out before a gut shot will kill me."

"Killing me won't get you anywhere, Vakarian," she hisses with clanking teeth. "The Council already knows about where you are and what you're hiding. Those children either come with me or you do."

Snarling, he shoves her into the mud. What is he to do? Kill her and just have more Spectres come after them until it's just the two of them against the whole of the galaxy or give in, admit defeat?

"Damn it," he curses softly as he clenches his fists tight enough to feel the plates of his real hand grind. "You give us no choice-"

The woman growls as she gets up, her nice armor now covered in mud. "I should shoot you now and damn the Council's orders."

"But you won't," Jane's voice says behind him as she steps down the step up of the prefab, his father's pistol in her hand pointed at the Spectre. "Because I bet I'm faster. Now what the fuck do you want?"

"Commander Shepard," the woman grinds out with a low growl of distaste that Garrus growls a non-verbal threat at. She hears it and unconsciously corrects her tone, lessening it, as she continues. "I'm Spectre Juna-"

"I don't give two shits who you are, but 'Spectre' explains why you're here. You can tell the Council to shove it up their respective asses and cloacas."

"You might want to reconsider, _Vakarians_."

"This _lupana_ ," that gets him a glare and growl from the woman, a threat of retaliation that he doesn't fear, not know when she's already threatened his children and wife, "Is threatening to take the children."

He covers her hand before she can pull the trigger, rumbling in silent 'think. I know it hurts, but think'. True, he'd love to disembowel the woman and force feed her own intestines, but they have already been found, their children finally brought out into the universe thanks to this… well, fucking woman.

"You dirty, fucking whore," Jane growls as her hand goes white trying to maintain her control on her angered trigger finger. "Fucking, motherless, cun-"

"Hold it, Commander," Spectre Juna snaps with a snarl, starting to lose her composure. "Come with me and I won't take your fucking brats. Don't and you'll have to kill me and every other Spectre in the galaxy because I won't back down. You decide."

Garrus has a moment of preparing himself for a fight, letting his mate decide their final fate, before Jane exhales a near growl of a breath. "This is over. I will find you. And I will kill you for this."

"You have two days to appear at the Alliance docks for your transport to the Destiny Ascension," is all the woman says as she crosses her hands behind her back, but ready for her weapon, Garrus knows. "I will be waiting and, if I don't see you there, you will both be considered rogue Spectres and hunted down. I advise you think of your family before making a rash decision."

"Shove your fucking advice up your cloaca, bitch," Jane says as she backs up to the prefab, motioning Garrus in first. He does and, when she gets inside, he hears her slam the door. "Fucking fuck!"

He isn't much better, starting to pace the tiny sitting area of the small living space with growls and snarls. To think his biggest mistake was not trying to find a way off planet to somewhere that his children could be safe.

Now what? Now what will they do to protect them from the galaxy that will only think them impossible defiances of nature?

Roaring in anger, he spins and punches a hole into the metal wall, metal fist denting the sheet metal. Jane stops shouting expletives at that and turns to him, frowning as she goes to him. Taking a deep breath, she wraps her hands around his still balled fist.

"We can do this, Garrus," she says and even he knows that she's also trying to promise this to herself. "This doesn't mean we've failed to protect them-"

"Doesn't it?" Snarling, he goes to the bedroom to sit heavily on the bed, head in his hands. "We failed to keep them hidden. And now what? What if more is brought to light about them?"

"Then we bring hell down on anyone who tries to hurt them." He feels the bed shift as she sits beside him. "We see what the fuck the Council wants and, first chance we get, we run, we get somewhere that we can protect them. We fight, that's what we do best."

Sighing, he looks up to the cribs. "I… I can't leave them behind. What if the Council demands we spend more time away from them? What if they send us on some damn mission?"

"Then we take them, we demand, and we pull favors with those that we know and trust. We will protect them." Laying her head on his shoulder, she sighs against him. "We try to keep the rest of their existence quiet by playing nice and no one will ever know."

Nodding, he lifts a hand to cup her head to his shoulder. "They don't know they're hybrids, that they're ours. We can register to 'adopt' them and hide the clues of their human genetics."

"How?"

"Gloves, shoes, no DNA testing." He hums and looks to her. "I don't know if it would work, but it's worth a try."

She nods against him and kisses his palm before standing. "We'll cross that bridge if and when it comes, burn it down if we have to," she sighs and runs a hand through her hair, "but we should start getting our shit together and enjoying what time we have right now."

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> SquigglySquid says: So I drew some fanart if anyone is interested. Check it out here:
> 
> https://drive.google.com/file/d/0B62uDkqdeIdqRVhkMVZCUUk0c1E/view?usp=sharing


	14. Chapter 14

-Jane-

"Come on, Damocles," her mate pleads with a soft rumble as he tries, once again, to slip a too large glove onto their son's hand to hide his two extra fingers. "I know it isn't fun, but it's just for a short time."

A loud squeal comes from their son as he flings his hands and the glove not yet secured around his wrist goes flying. Jane has to fight not to burst into laughter at her husband's defeated sigh as he gets up to collect it off the floor, this small task of getting the babies dressed already taking way too long thanks to both of the twins' insistence to not cooperate. It's necessary, though, for both keeping them warm and protected from the rain, but their extra appendages hidden and nearly uncanny resemblance to their _actual_ father disguised.

She still can't believe they have to stoop so low as to claim their own babies as merely adoptive children. Leave it to their fucked up straws to be the ones that have to shape even their children's lives to fit into the unmoving demands of the others in this fucked up galaxy.

"Why is this so much more difficult for me?" His voice pulls her out of her thoughts, making her realize she's chuckling slightly at his misfortune. "How did you get Cassia's on so easily?"

Jane looks over to their daughter sitting on the bed chewing on the empty tip of the glove on her own hand's finger, they needed to get some two sizes too big so it wouldn't hurt their fingers having to be divided among the digits. She chuckles at their little girl in her own little world, entertained by her own clothes as she waits for the rest of them to get their asses in gear, and looks to her mate with a shrug.

"I'm just skilled."

He snorts and hums in what he thinks about that with a skeptical look over his shoulder before he tries again. "How could we have found someone more stubborn than us?"

"Maybe because he's _our_ kid?" she offers as she comes to him and gently holds Damocles' flailing arms. "Ever heard that saying that your kids will always be twice as bad as you are?"

"What a horrible saying."

She snorts as both sets of adult hands try to get the single tiny one into the glove and secure it. "But it's true. Even Cassia has her moments, like last night."

Groaning in remembrance of their daughter's decision to scream and cry all night if her parents so much as _thought_ about putting her down to bed, he nods in agreement. "She has your lungs, definitely. And my sense of understanding that we're in a hurry," he adds jokingly.

Jane chuckles and heads to the bed, grabbing a thick jacket for her mate to put on their son and hands it over, then doing the same to Cassia. The daughter chirps happily and purrs as her little arms are guided into the sleeves and jacket zipped up, much the same as her brother across the room.

"There we are," she says as she picks up the chirping infant and cradles her to her side, wrapping even her own jacket around to help bundle their daughter up. "All ready for our little trip. Garrus?"

"Right behind you, Jane."

She smiles and watches as he picks up their small duffle that carries their sparse belongings - one, perhaps two, outfits for each adult as well as toys, blankets, baby clothes, and a folded up pair of small cribs. It's not much, and they'll definitely demand more for their children once they finally learn what it is the Council have drug them into, but this will hold them over for a time while what they leave can go to his family to trade for their own necessities in the camp.

Shouldering the duffle, Garrus takes up their son onto his hip with a purr. He then wraps his own jacket around the young one to keep him further out of the rain and chill.

"Ready?"

"Ready," he assures with a smile as he motions to lead.

She knows they shouldn't, not after everything that his family has done for them, but their planned out exit has them leaving while most of the camp is gone in the cleaning crews, his sister and father included. Better to leave when they don't have the chances to say goodbye, parting like that just too final. Here, they can avoid that and jump straight to the routine check-ups over the comm.

A drizzle falls on their heads and they hold their children closer, protecting them from prying eyes of those few left in the camp and chilled rain alike. Where before she felt at place amongst those who either didn't know or care who they were, now feels like the four of them couldn't be any further from these people they tried to live amongst.

Like walking through a prison and down death row, they are forced to leave one life for once that is promised to be much, much more challenging. What may be even worse are the slight nods in acknowledgement and parting from some of those higher ranking men and women running the place that probably saw right through their half-assed guise from the beginning.

Walking up to the shuttle pad, the Sergeant assigned to watch over the incoming and outgoing shuttles meets them halfway, looking them over. "Praetor Vakarian, Commander Shepard. Sergeant Corix. We are aware you'd be needing a shuttle to the London Air Base on orders of Spectre Procris, but, I'll admit, I hadn't expected you so soon."

"Figured we'd delay the inevitable?" She chuckles and nods, offering a hand in greeting that the female Sergeant takes before motioning them to follow.

"That'd be about it," she says with a rumble as she motions the steps with a jerk of her hand. "Use the rails, these things get pretty treacherous in the rain."

As Jane expected, but she walks with more caution all the same, not in a position to catch herself with one hand without falling back into Garrus, and that leaves too many possibilities she doesn't want to even _think_ about.

"Have you heard anything about the ship we'll be leaving on? Will this shuttle take us directly to its dock?" Garrus asks as they reach the flat shuttle pad, a white shuttle with a curved design waiting. If she knows anything through her travels among other people and to different planets, it's that this shuttle looks right at home among asari architecture and design, leading her to believe that it's those very people they'll be joining on their way to the Destiny Ascension.

 _Wonderful. Might as well have been with the salarians for how much asari really appreciate our efforts after Thessia falling to their own arrogance,_ she thinks as the Sergeant turns to them just under the cover of the open hatch.

"This shuttle will take you to the docks of the _Anatis_ , an Asari Republic vessel. I am aware that Spectre Procris is waiting for you there."

"So that's the bitch's name? Procris?"

She looks to her with a slight tilt of her brown plated head, confused rumble obvious over the soft patter of the drizzle slowly becoming heavier. "Ma'am?"

"We didn't have the best of introductions. She took it as her personal mission to threaten our children," her mate explains with a slight growl that must mean something because it causes the woman to nod and rumble in understanding.

"I see. For what it's worth, many of us here in this camp don't see the same as the Spectre. We've too many orphans to be bogged down by regulations and paperwork concerning adoptions."

The two of them chuckle at how familiar that sort of thinking is to their own way of doing, well, _everything_ as Garrus grins and says, "Good to know there are others out there that are less orthodox than our reputation makes us out to be."

The Sergeant quirks a mandible and motions into the shuttle. "For what it's worth, it was good to have you both here, sir and ma'am. You really boosted morale for refugee and soldier alike." She flares her mandibles and gives a turian salute. "I think the saying is 'give them hell'."

Jane laughs and nods as she steps in and turns to watch her mate follow, saying, "If there's one thing we do best, it's that."

With a nod in thanks, the hatch lowers and they hear the fist to its side in 'ready to go' to the pilot. Jane feels the subtle shift of momentum under their feet of the shuttle taking to the air and sighs, their peace of serenity finally taken from them with this shuttle flight.

A soft, whirring purr pulls her attention away from staring a hole in the shuttle hatch door and down to their daughter in the crook of her arm and hiding within her jacket. At least, she considers as she walks to join her husband as he drops their duffle on one of the benches, they have each other through this and she'll be fucking _damned_ if she lets anything rip them apart any more than they have already been apart. They will _not_ lose any more days of their children's lives.

"Hey, little one," she says as she opens her jacket and pulls out Cassia, holding her up with a big smile. "It was awfully cramped in there, huh?" She gets a smile and chittering purr as the infant kicks her feet.

"I think Damocles had a bigger disagreement to the moving arrangements," Garrus says with a chuckle as he sits beside her, their chirping son out of his father's jacket and in his arms. "I'm pretty sure he chewed a hole through my shirt."

She snorts and holds Cassia close to reach over and caress their son's head, making him purr happily. "You _did_ say they should be teething soon."

"Yeah, but not on what little clothes I actually have." For all his complaining, her mate actually holds no ill against their children ruining their clothes, offering one of his real fingers to their son to teeth on.

"That doesn't hurt?"

"With their teeth on my plates? No," he answers with a chuckle. "We'd never survive if we were taken down by an infant teething."

Laughing, she nudges him with her shoulder as she offers her shirt to her daughter instead of her hair, definitely not built to offering her own flesh and bone to those needle-like teeth. "Hell, better than what happens to humans."

"Oh?"

"Yeah. Ever wonder what my tits are for? And, no, they aren't solely for yours or any other man's entertainment."

"Then I have nothing," he deadpans and she rolls her eyes, chuckling.

"We feed our infants. You know how mammals feed their young with milk?" He nods and she points to herself with a quirk of her lips. "Humans are mammals, buddy."

"Okay, I might have known that, but I've never seen you produce, what is it called, breast milk? Is it an age thing?"

She snorts and laughs, shaking her head. " _God_ , no. Could you imagine it? Like the worst, most inconvenient stage of puberty or menopause ever." Waving off the questioning look, she says, "I'll explain menopause later. No. Human _females_ produce breast milk usually when we're pregnant and give birth."

Garrus raises a brow and hums curiously. "Did you?"

"Did I what?"

"Did you produce breast milk?"

"Oh." She shrugs and rubs a chirping Cassia's back. "I did for about a week or two before the doctor gave me something to dry it all up. When they were first born, they drank it, but they outgrew it fast. Plus, wouldn't be too good going out with my tits leaking."

Sighing, she knows the topic is changed ever before he says, "Is there any hope that our children don't get your way with language?"

Smirking, she shakes her head. "Not a damn chance. Like mommy, like son and daughter. You give them your bad sense of humor and I'll give them the best fucking vocabulary in the known universe."

"That's frightening." Yet, his warm smile and nuzzle to her temple tells her his thoughts on them raising their children so that they _can_ learn their good and bad qualities. Will she work on it? Probably, but should he know that? _Nah, let him worry._

" _Spectres Shepard and Vakarian?"_ The intercom of the shuttle comes to life as they begin to feel a descent. " _We're arriving at dock F6, where the Anatis is docked. We're being hailed by Spectre Procris."_

"Tell her to shove it up her cloaca, we're on our damn way," she says to the woman behind the intercom. "And you can tell her I said that."

" _I… I understand."_ Garrus gives her an exasperated look at her kicking the beehive, but who cares? She plans on making this woman's life a living hell and, if he wasn't ready to choke hold her or cold clock her, she's sure he'd agree. " _She will be waiting for you at the Anatis' airlock, ma'am."_

He waits until the click of the comm before looking at her. "You know the only thing keeping me from that woman is the fact that I will have a child in my arms, right?"

She chuckles at an image in her head, explaining, "Could you imagine it? 'Jane, hold my baby, I'm ripping some turian ass!'" At his mandible flick, but hidden smile, she turns to her daughter. "Wouldn't that be something to see, Cass?"

"Cass?"

"Yep, I'm calling her Cass for short."

"Why do humans have a tendency to shorten everything? Convenience?"

"Laziness," she admits with a smirk and shrug, seeing if that narrow eyed look she gets is him gauging her truthfulness or lighthearted exasperation. "Don't worry, it'll grow on you."

She gets a snort out of him as they feel the shuttle set down under them, the sound of rain urging them to wrap their protesting children back up and ignore their squeals and clicks of irritation at the confinement. With soothing, nonsensical sounds and, from him, vocals, they manage to hush the twins down enough to prepare _themselves_ for what lays beyond the shuttle doors.

When Jane gives her mate a nod, he hits the hatch control and lets in the chilling air, the loud sounds of the docks, and the sight of the one woman who started it all, Spectre Juna Procris. Walking towards them in her recently cleaned armor, she wears a smirk of, in Jane's opinion, dishonorably won victory and she has to hold a hand out to her mate to silence his low growl. Killing a Spectre in front of so many onlookers and soldiers wouldn't be a very good idea, after all.

"Ah, the Vakarians," she says with her chin up as she holds her hands at the crook of her back. "And I see my suspicions were correct."

With the motion to their children, Jane steps in front of her mate before he can charge and narrows her eyes, flaring slightly. "Speak another word of them and the Council will have to scoop you out of that armor like soup."

Juna chuckles and steps forward, taking the challenge. "You've already answered all I need to know, Shepard. The two of you have adopted those children as you own, Spirits only know how far into the war. But know I intend to keep my word." Stepping away, she looks them over with sharp, amber eyes. "You can keep your illegally acquired children so long as you cooperate with myself and the Council."

"Don't try it," Garrus says with a guttural growl. "Even so much as _mention_ it again and I'll do worse than liquefying you."

"Ouh, so intimidating." The Spectre mock shivers before growling back. "Get on the _Anatis_ before I get bored."

"We aren't prisoners," Jane snaps. "We're doing this not because you threatened us, but because we want to demand to be left the fuck alone to the Council's fucking faces. Show us some damn respect as the people who could kick your scrawny little ass."

The female growls and, Jane knows, is about to close into their space in preparation for a fight when an Alliance dock worker clears his throat, making her turn to the intrusion. "What is it?" she snaps with a snarl.

The man flinches and holds up his hands in pacification. "I was… the _Anatis_ is completing its final docking procedures. You should get on board."

Smirking at the fact that the woman obviously can't hold her temper - not that she has anything to say to that fact - Jane motions Garrus to follow, nodding to the worker. "Why, _thank you_ for that last call. We should get on, don't you think, _Spectre?_ "

"This isn't over, Shepard."

They leave the woman at the airlock, her mandibles flicking in irritation as she must leave her stalking behind them to speak with the XO or CO of the ship on their addition. It isn't long before they are approached by a uniformed asari, who smiles and offers a salute to the two higher ranking Spectres, even if they happen to be in the shittiest clothes on the ship with babies in their arms.

"Spectres Vakarian. I'm Yeoman Ruiva." They nod in greeting as she offers a hand in 'right this way', explaining. "I'll be showing you to your separate cabin and assisting you with anything you might need while in transit."

"A cabin?" Jane looks to her husband with a raised brow.

"Yes, ma'am. It's not much, but it will give you and yours a sense of privacy. It was usually designated for delegates," she chuckles, "but the Captain has ensured me that Spectres, too, are to be given VIP treatment."

Smirking with an idea, she glances her husband's way before asking, "Any chance when can get a room beside Spectre Procris? We might need to _work together_."

She hears the curious and questioning rumble from her mate, but she'll have to explain her idea to be as loud and disturbing as possible late into the night doing what they do best later. Hell, she might explain by doing, if she so chooses.

"Well, yes, ma'am. I was actually going to but you across, but the room beside hers is… more fitting." She motions their children. "It's bigger."

"That would be preferable," Garrus says with a nod as they enter a hall that he has to lean down a bit to traverse. "Are we restricted to our rooms?"

"I would have to ask Spectre Juna, sir. She is the one overseeing your transport." She stops at a door and palms the controls, the door opening to a more spacious room. "The room is taller, don't worry, sir. Please, take a look."

At her hand motion to go on ahead, Jane steps into the large room, like a sweeping hotel room with a double bed and small seating area beyond with a holographic image of some picturesque vista along the opposite wall. To the immediate left of the door is, not a room, but a small divider wall between the bed and seating room and the bathroom. _At least we don't have any need for modesty._

"How do you like it?"

Chuckling, Jane turns to the woman and nods. "Not bad. Looks like we'll get to relax some before seeing the Council, after all."


	15. Chapter 15

-Garrus-

He can't find sleep, resolving himself to staring up at the arching ceiling as he thinks to the sounds of his sleeping mate and children surrounding him.

Despite his best efforts, he wasn't able to keep them from the grasps of those who had nearly drained them during the war like leeches, slimy little earth creatures feeding and sucking them dry of everything they have. Will death be the only true escape?

What has become of them that their existence is only to fight for the powers that be? His childhood dreams to become a Spectre never looked so foolish and naive as they do now, body scarred and mind filled with horrors that will never truly go away. Laying here on yet another journey across space to take a knee before the Council is one of those days, he feels the chains wrapped around he and his wife weighing down and tightening.

A hand smooths over his chest, his sleeping mate slowly waking as she presses closer to his side. He rumbles and pulls her closer with his arm under her shoulders, nuzzling the crown of her head. At least, he thinks heavy heartedly, he has her and their small family by his side.

"You shouldn't be awake," she whispers, her eyes still closed as she quirks a smile. "Should have known you wouldn't be tired after all night fucking."

He chuckles and cups the back of her head as she moves to tilt up to him, their mouths meeting in a tender, slow kiss. Her hair tangles in his hand, but she doesn't seem to mind as he runs his talons through her curls. "I couldn't sleep."

"Uh oh," she says as she sits up on her elbow and runs her hand down his keel. "That's a 'been thinking' sort of statement. Added to your look and I'd believe that's _exactly_ what that is." Frowning, she leans close and nuzzles her cheek to his and he purrs as he presses back in reassurance.

"It's nothing new, Jane," he explains with a sigh, vocals vibrating in defeat. "Just lamenting our failed attempts to be anything but soldiers the galaxy seems unable to do anything without. We tried so damn hard."

"Then we keep making it hard, make them regret coming after us. " Her hand makes him look from the arching metal ceiling and to her. "They can only kick the hornet's nest so many times before they get stung."

"Jane," he says with a concern rumble. "As far as we are alone in this, we are the ones kicking the nest. They have ammunition against us."

"You think a few Spectres would give us hell after we took down the Reapers?" His mate smirks and shakes her head. "With how big a hit the Spectres took from the war, I bet the Council wouldn't be stupid enough to send more than two after us."

That determined and confident look on her face helps ease some of his worry, making him chuckle. "Just two?"

Shrugging, she corrects, "Maybe more. You know how stupid and stubborn the Council can be."

Point made. They will gain their freedom they deserve even if it takes fighting every last Spectre and military that stands in their way or die trying.

He rolls to face her, purring as he runs the back of his metal fingers along her cheek, too tired last night after doing their damnest to make sure Spectre Procris didn't manage to get _any_ sleep last night. Sensors on the limb alerting him to her pressing back as if it were his own, real hand, he leans forward and kisses her, tongue sliding into her mouth and curling around her own.

She moans, as insatiable as he, it seems, and pulls herself closer, lifting a leg over his to curl around and pull him closer, impatient to the end. Chuckling, he shifts her enough so that her folds are pressed to his groin and relaxes, sliding out and into her in one breath.

Both moan at the feeling as he groans, always oversensitive directly after erecting out of his sheath. He tests her, pulling back to push in, and gets the perfect answer to his unasked question when she nods and starts to breathe heavier.

"Move, dammit. Don't fucking tease."

"I wasn't even trying," he whispers with a growl as he pulls out. "But now I just might."

"I will kill you."

Her glare makes him chuckle as he sits up and gently rolls her onto her belly, gripping her rear and lifting. "On your hands and knees."

"Varren style, I like-"

She yelps when he swats her left buttock. "Now. I think we can get one more round in before she wakes."

Smirking, his mate follows his command and gets up, offering her beautiful flower to his eyes. His reaction is immediately as he kneels behind her and thrusts, yanking her hips back into his forward entry.

She cries out in surprise and pleasure, her smell growing. He growls and pulls back, ramming in with a slap, building a steadily building pace. All the while, his mate moans and grunts from his force, panting with her head down.

He can't have that.

Reaching forward, he tangles a hand in her hair and pulls her head back, growling against her ear. Her choked moan is music and he keeps the grip tight, the effect it has on her already tight walls almost instant as she clenches in reflex, making her even smaller.

Alternating his strokes to long and deep to fast and unrelenting, he can keep her constantly unaware of his next move. The feeling is exhilarating, the brutal force and control he has over her, even down to her walls, and he knows she likes it not from the time together, but from the smell and feel of her arousal mixed with his own that drips down onto the bed.

"Fuck… Fuck me harder." His wife, always the one to make him work for their pleasure, bucks back and turns to lick his scarred mandible at her cheek. "Let me feel each and every ridge popping in and out of me, stretching, filling me."

He snarls and shoves her face into the pillows, hand splayed over her back as he forces her to hold his weight. She will feel this later, sure to have bruises along her rear and thighs, but she wouldn't force him for more if she didn't expect it, didn't for some reason want the feeling of his plates scraping over her delicately soft skin.

With her scream against the pillows, he feels her body bow, growing tense and still everywhere except those gloriously tight walls clenching and constricting even tighter. As it always has, one orgasm pulls another out of them and he roars, the intense feeling of his base swelling with blood and locking them together filling him as he shivers from the chill of the air against his heated hide.

Silence except for their pants fill the room and he thanks the Spirits that turian children are born oblivious to nearly everything outside of their own little cribs while they sleep - probably for the best considering. If he hadn't looked up raising children during his six months away from them, he'd be worried, but was assured it was completely natural, that turian babies were practically senseless when it came to anything occurring outside their sleeping dreams. He likes to think of it as some natural benefit for the parents to get some 'rest', but he's pretty sure it has some other purpose besides that.

"Holy hell, Garrus." Looking down at her voice, he sees her grin euphorically at him and chuckles. "I like fucking and being fucked by you."

"Just like?" He scoffs in mock insult just as the door swings open with a loud swish.

"Are you people insane?!" Procris storms into the room, mandibles flicking in agitation, and he doesn't bother to hide his amused rumble and shared smirk with his wife. " _Hours!_ For hours you two have been fucking _loudly_ like two fucking pyjaks!"

"Funny. I thought turians _like_ sex."

Garrus chuckles and mock whispers an answer to his mate. "Someone feels left out."

"Yeah. And pent up," she replies back with a chuckle, making the woman growl.

"You're like children!" Procris snarls and storms to the bed, demanding, "At least you can look me in the eye while you insult our species by choosing to fuck a hu-"

His reaction is immediate, snarling as he reaches out and grabs the woman's tunic to yank her close. "Think before you finish that line of thought I _know_ you're leading to."

"I don't fear you."

"You should," he growls low as his talons pierce through her clothes in his hand. "I don't know if you've realized this, but we aren't _following_ you because we feel threatened by you. We've taken on much more challenging targets than you and, by giving you this job, the Council doesn't take you seriously either."

She shoves his hand away, ripping the front of her shirt with a rumbling snarl. "You're both washed up relics from-"

Jane moves fast, their precarious position not even phasing her, and throws a punch onto the Spectre's waist. Procris gasps and stumbles, having to catch herself on the bed, which only gives him the opportunity he needs to take a lesson from the krogan, slamming his forehead into her temple plate.

She falls with a grunt against the bed, catching herself before she is sent to the ground in a heap. Jane, quite proud of herself, makes a show of blowing on her knuckles before smirking. "How's that for washed up relics? And we didn't even separate."

Juna Procris snarls in rage as she shoves herself up at the same time Garrus pushes Jane off him with a wet sound of the suction releasing. Adrenaline pumping, he punches the Spectre as she charges and ducks under the recoiling swipe of talons. He rams his shoulder into her waist to send her to the ground, skidding over the cool floor, and follows with a deep, irritated growl.

Jane, seeming to know this fight shouldn't include her, stays in the bed as he grabs the woman and yanks her up just as she pulls her weapon. With a metal hand around her wrist, he feels the snap as he hears the hiss of her pain, and disarms her. Dropping her to the ground, he shoves her down with a foot and doesn't pause before aiming the weapon between her eyes.

"Let's try this again," he says, voice barely cutting through his gravelly growl. "You will leave our room and you will stay out of our way from here on out. Tell the medic you fell and if I hear you've told anyone what's happened here, I will shoot you with your own weapon." Examining the Stiletto in his hand, he hums. "Heavily modded, armor piercing, looks like. Not that I'd need them right now… I'm keeping this."

Her glare could burn the paint off armor, but he doesn't flinch. He has stared down so much worse in such a short time without falter, so this woman doesn't strike fear in him. If anything, it only fuels his anger.

"The Council won't stand for an assault on a fellow Spectre, Vakarian," Procris growls, not faltering under the gaze of the barrel of her own gun. _Good. At least she's proving to be worth the Council's appointment into the Spectres._ "And you can be damn sure I won't let you get away with this."

"Then don't," Jane says as she gets up from the bed, flaring blue as she balls her hands into fists and stands to come to his side. "Come after us and feel what the Reapers felt just before we wiped their sorry fucking asses off the face of the galaxy like shit on our shoes. Now get your xenophobic ass off the floor and out of our room before you wake our children."

"Children acquired illegally."

"Want to argue that with a bullet between the eyes?" He jerks a head at the weapon still aimed in a position that there will be no doubt of a clean kill.

"This isn't over," Spectre Procris says as she gets up off the floor and attempts a smoothing of her clothes before shoving past with a rough collision of her shoulder to his. "Council pets or not, I will make you pay for this."

"We look forward to it," his mate promises as the woman steps out of their room, her back disappearing behind the sliding doors. Once gone, Jane looks to him with a slight smirk. "And all that either knotted or with a hard on."

When she motions his still swollen penis, unable to retract with the knot as it is, he shrugs. "Probably wouldn't have felt anything if she _did_ go after it with the adrenaline."

"Still, that thing is valuable."

Snorting at that, he says, "Should have known you'd only worry about that while I'm in the middle of a fight."

"You seemed to have it under control," she responds with a shrug before going to the crib. "And they slept through it all."

"Turian trait. If I remember correctly, I think it helps retain heat when they're so small."

"Damn." She chuckles and rubs one head, then the other. "Wish I could sleep like a fucking rock."

Sighing a rumbling growl, he sets the pistol down and goes to her side, wrapping an arm around her hips to pull her against him. "You know we'll never hear the end of this, both from her _and_ the Council."

"Let them bitch. We'll bitch right back." She smiles and nuzzles under his chin. "We will the biggest pains in their asses that they'll _have_ to let us go just to get rid of us."

He chuckles, can't help it with her confidence radiating with her devious intentions, and nods. "Right there beside you."

"And I'm going to demand the Normandy."

"What?"

With his rumble of confusion at her sudden switch in topics, she explains. "When they force us into some stupid mission. I'm demanding the Normandy."

"Think they'll give it to us, again? Isn't it supposed to be the Alliance's pride and glory now that it was the spearhead of the war?"

She shrugs and makes a face that tells all too well her opinion on what the Alliance thinks or cares to tell her. "Fuck 'em."

"I'd much rather you do that to me." He smirks and growls against her ear, getting a shiver and hunched shoulders in response. "I've always wanted to see what it feels like to actually use my knot to thrust in you."

"Now you're talking."

Smiling seductively, she turns from him and starts to back towards the bed, giving him a come hither look and crooked finger. He'll be damned if he doesn't follow her.

There is, after all, nowhere he'd rather be.


	16. Chapter 16

-Jane-

 

Orbiting Thessia, the Destiny Ascension was the new, albeit temporary, hub of galactic government.  Not truly meant for battle at this time with the damage it took in the push to Earth, the vessel’s interior decks were remodelled to resemble floors of the Presidium towers, elegant and swiping in scope and bustling with aristocratic assholes.  

 

She cannot fathom who, in their right mind, would think the top priority was to turn a giant warship into a flying show of wealth and importance when these very people should be more worried about putting the galaxy back together.  Probably, if she has a guess, the same people walking around as if this were merely a vacation and not an abuse of power and money that could be aiding refugees or, hell, even displaced soldiers.

 

Yet, what did she know?  Holding together a government _could_ be the biggest step in rebuilding, though she seriously doubted it.  

 

What she _did_ know was that she already hated this place, stepping off the lift that brought them up from the docking bay and into the ‘Ascension Commons’.  She despised the fact that nothing has really changed, the only change from here and the central Presidium the fact that, now, it was a ship able to traverse the galaxy as needed.  

 

This place is so alien in scope from what she's seen on Earth, what she knows exists on every other colony and planet, that she can't help the unconscious tightening of her hold around their son.  This place is filled with poison of facetiousness and disillusion of not victory, but merely _survival_ of the biggest attack the galaxy had ever seen.  

 

“This place feels wrong,” her mate says as he cups Cassia’s head to his chest, cradling and shielding her.  When Jane looks to him, he rumbles, narrowing his eyes at the sight of seemingly unaffected politicians blind to the real need of the people they are supposed to represent.  “It's like the war was just a mild inconvenience to them.”

 

“I wonder how long it took them before they kicked all the refugees off the ship,” she agrees with a glare at some gawking asari as they pass.  “Because I doubt they just left a deck or two to all those people from the last time we were here.”

 

He growls, about to speak, as they hear a voice call to them.  “Shepard!  Garrus!”

 

Surprise is written all over their face, not that they don’t recognize the voice - would be pretty hard _not_ to remember the woman they helped become Shadow Broker - but that the woman is here in person and more than just a message on their tools or a passing package of something they need and cannot obtain otherwise.

 

“Liara?”  Jane grins and let's the woman hug her, patting her on the back.  “It’s good to see you finally.”  A recognizable drell trails behind.  “And you too, Feron.  Been a long time.”

 

“It has.  I'm glad to see the two of you are back on your feet.”

 

Her husband nods and turns to Liara, asking, “What brings you to the Ascension?”

 

The young asari smiles at Garrus’ curious rumbling and motions to walk with her.  “I heard you were coming and took a flight in from Thessia.”

 

“I’m surprised they let you dock,” he says with a chuckle.  “Pull some strings to get here, I assume.”

 

“I infiltrated my way here by replacing the Prime Illuminous’ secretary and had her body hidden within the hull of the Hanar transport ship.”

 

Jane blinks in surprise and looks at her, asking, “Seriously?”

 

“No, but the truth is boring.”

 

Snorting into a laugh, Jane pats Liara on the pat, perhaps a bit too rough from the slight grunt from the woman.  Garrus chuckles and the children, hearing the chatter, wake and chirp, hands gripping and tugging their clothes.  

 

Liara, finally able to see them without being buried in their parents’ arms, gasps as her eyes widen.  “Goddess, _look_ at them.”  She reaches forward and caresses a tiny plated cheek before smiling.  “Shepard, they’re so adorable.  And look how much they’ve grown!”

 

Her mate hums and nods, stepping closer to help further hide Damocles with her own jacket.  “Getting harder to keep them out of the attentions of others.  We’re having them wear too big clothing, but they absolutely _hate_ it.”

 

“I see… Perhaps I might be able to help with them?  I have a Corvette class vessel at the docks that Feron and I can take them to.”

 

“And your crew?”

 

“Don't worry, Shepard.  We can keep them a secret from the small crew aboard.  After all, you already have their gloves and shoes on.”

 

Garrus snorts and chuckles.  “For however long that will last.”

 

“Then we’ll be sure to keep them in my cabin and away from the crew,” T’Soni assures with a warm smile.  

 

Turning to her mate, Jane looks up in silent question, asking his opinion.  It’s not that they don’t trust her, of course they do, but every time they have separated with their babies, it has only brought them hell.  Still, do they really want to give the Council any more ammunition against them?

 

Agreement made, she sighs and nods.  “Yeah.  Last thing we need is the Council starting shit with them around.”  

 

Garrus rumbles his agreement and gently detaches Cassia from his shirt, handing the trilling and whining baby over to the shocked drell.  Next, he removes his jacket to wrap around her, even going so far as to pull the hood over her head.  To any outsiders, it might just look like Feron is carrying a large bundle of clothing.

 

“We also need a favor,” he says as Jane does the same with Damocles into Liara’s arms.  “We need adoption paperwork done for the children.”

 

“I heard,” she says with a frown.  “I’m so sorry.”

 

Jane shrugs it off.  “Nothing to do about it.”  Following the two towards the lifts, she stops and looks around at the noticeable difference between themselves and everyone else, dressed in the worn and tattered clothes of refugees amongst expensively well dressed politicians.  “Liara, what happened to the refugees aboard this ship?”

 

The asari nods, as if she expected it.  “Most have been offered places to stay on Thessia for aiding in rebuilding efforts while those that can offer services better meant for the Ascension have been given housing in the upper Cargo Bay.”

 

“Services?”  Jane snorts derisively.  “I can’t _wait_ to see who qualifies.”

 

“Shepard.”  She is lightly admonished, perhaps Liara too tired with the truth to fight too much over the falsehood.  “I know it’s not the best, that many people still aren’t home, but they have food and water-”

 

Garrus growls as they arrive at the lifts, stopping to turn to the woman.  “They have rations and barely constructed homes, Liara.  We know it, we’ve lived it, and what does the Council do?  Not a damn thing but expect us to come at the snap of their fingers to go off on some mission I’ll bet any other Spectre with both arms and both legs could accomplish.”

 

She lays a hand on her mate’s arm to calm him and looks to Liara, hearing the young woman sigh.  

 

“I know, Garrus,” she admits.  “I’m not trying to defend them, just to see the good in what we have.  We _survived_ the war, now we just need to pick up the pieces.”

 

Jane knows that doesn’t soothe his rage at the very people occupying this ship, at the other higher ranking officials that seem to have done nothing for their people in his eyes, but she doesn’t blame his ire, his continued distaste for bureaucracy and red tape.  He does, however, seem to understand that Liara is merely trying to see the good in a bad situation and takes a deep, calming breath.

 

“Yeah.  Yeah, you may be right.”  Rumbling, he reaches forward and gently hides their son’s head under the jacket’s hood.  “You both should get the kids down to your ship before the Council sends someone out for us.”

 

Liara nods and gives them one last worried look before motioning Feron to follow her into the lift.  She watches them with those blue eyes of hers as she reaches out and presses the command, only turning away when something is said from her partner just as the doors close.  

 

“You know she’s younger than you think,” the redhead finally says as they start to head towards the lift to take them to the higher decks, their destination the newly designated ‘Council Chambers’ located on the highest deck in the tallest spire-like structure of the vessel.  “She’s like a young adult… And then she has that awkward, ‘spend all my free time in the middle of old ruins instead of with people’ thing.”

 

“You _do_ know I know about asari, right?”  He lifts a brow as he looks down to her.  “And I don’t blame her for trying to be optimistic.  She’s blinding herself… But I don’t blame her.”

 

Rolling her eyes as they step into the lift, she takes his hand.  “Try not to think about it.  Last thing we need is to already be pissed when we walk into this.”

 

“Wouldn’t that make things easier for when they only make it worse?”

 

She snorts and shakes her head.  “This way we can at least enjoy the ride up.”

 

“So I’m _not_ the only one that misses those long elevator rides where we could talk about our cultures and people,” he says with a mock, wide-eyed look of surprised joy.  “Why didn’t you say anything?”

 

“Because I’d have to be insane to want to hear another ‘who would win in a fight between you and Shepard’ conversation.”

 

“I’d still bet on you,” he says with that growl in his voice that speaks volumes of what he’d really do.  

 

She smirks and pinches his waist, making the hide under her fingers twitch.  “Save it, we got a Council to rip into.”

 

Stepping out of the lift, they are greeting quickly by a commando that doesn't do much beyond greet them with their own names and ranks before she motions towards a sliding double doors.  Within is a massive chamber backdropped by the projected image of the stars and Thessia the Ascension orbits.  It's similarities with the Chambers on the Citadel is disturbingly uncanny.

 

“-But Councilors.  You can’t just let them coast on their past service to continue this insubordination!  They should be court martialed!”  

 

Jane knows that voice.  True, there are many that probably share those views, but only one with that dual toned shrill, that sound of a child throwing a tantrum.  

 

“Spectre Procris,” the asari Councilor that had once urged them to help Thessia says.  “Are we to allow your own insubordination by questioning the Council’s decisions?”

 

“No, ma’am,” the female turian ducks her head respectfully at the reprimand just as Jane and her mate come to stand behind her.  

 

She never thought she’d fall so low as to have to stand in line to speak to the bullheaded Councilors, but here she is.  At least Garrus has to deal with it too.   _Misery loves company, love._

 

“Spectre Procris has some valid points,” the Dalatrass from their negotiations between krogan, salarian, and turians says, which isn’t all that surprising to see her up there considering their current luck.  “Spectres Shepard and Vakarian have bullied their way through the war and they are doing so now.  They see this as a child’s game to get what they want and ignore any consequences.”

 

“I agree.” Another familiar face comes into the fray, in the form of Garrus’ supposed past lover, Octavia Maxima.   _What a fan-fucking-tastic reunion._

 

The only one that seems to be on their side with a fervent shake of his head is the man they met only one, and under a mistaken identity at that, Osoba or something.  “Now, now… Let’s not be hasty.  I know their methods are unorthodox, but that’s what Spectres _do_ , whatever it takes to get the job done.  And isn’t that exactly what they did?  We all wouldn’t be here if not for them.”

 

Councilor Irissa looks from the man to the three of them standing at the foot of their pulpit.  “Spectres Shepard and Vakarian, what do you say in your defense?”

 

“We did everything necessary,” Jane says as they push Juna Procris aside, hearing her growl.  “Also, you can address your complaints to my pasty white ass crack.”  

 

The Dalatrass takes particular offense to that one, but Irissa doesn’t seem all that bothered, turning, instead, to Octavia and the salarian.  “In a two vote for and two vote against, the Spectres will not be admonished for their actions.  However.”  She turns to them and narrows her eyes just slightly.  “Should your actions prove to no longer be to the benefit of the galaxy, the votes shall be recounted.  Are we understood?”

 

It’s clear Procris doesn’t approve from the barely audible grumble at their backs, but Jane ignores it as she shrugs.  “Sure.  Garrus?”

 

“Understood.”

 

“Very well.  Now for the matter at hand.”

 

“Where were you?”  Octavia leans on her podium with a narrow-eyed glare.  “The Alliance only treated you _after_ your injuries were initially attended to.”

 

“What does it matter-”

 

“We were unconscious for the majority of our healing,” her husband interrupts.  “We were being treated at a refugee outpost until the Alliance…found us.”  A special little growl is added to that and gets a huff from the woman as she leans away from her podium.

 

“And these ‘children’ the reports spoke of?”

 

He practically snarls at the Dalatrass, making her instinctively step back, but Jane steps in before he can jump up and start something _really_ bad.  “Our children are off the table.”

 

“But they aren’t _your_ children, are they?”  Maxima asks as she crosses her arms.  “We don’t even know where these children came from, where the parents are, or even if the Spectres came upon them legally.”

 

Osoba frowns and says, “But, are we to expect our own Spectres would just _steal_ children from their parents?  The war has left so many orphans.  Can we really do something like take two children from parents just because circumstances don’t have us filing paperwork in the proper manner?”

 

“Councilor Osoba is right,” Irissa agrees, looking to Octavia.  “I don’t believe your own people would disagree with their young children being given homes instead of residing in the refugee camps?”

 

The female is quiet for a time, glaring at the other woman before she growls and sighs.  “Fine.  But I better see some proper papers filed and those children had better not interfere with your duties.”

 

“Which you all have _yet_ to tell us,” Garrus growls right back, staring straight at the woman he, if Jane remembers the conversation correctly, used to fuck on a regular basis.

 

The salarian Councilor sighs and taps her podium.  “We’ve been receiving disturbing reports from refugee ships destined for the Sol system.”

 

“It seems those few remaining ships from the Hegemony fleet have turned on the Alliance, Commander,” Osoba says with a stern look at her decision in the past to coerce the last remaining batarian ships to join the massive fleet.  

 

“I did what I had to do at the time.”  She knows she doesn’t have to support her decision, doesn’t have to explain her actions in the middle of a war to end all wars.

 

“And we aren’t assuming anything,” Irissa adds as she looks to the human Councilor before returning to them.  “With reports of only select ships attacking human refugee vessels, it is your job to discover if they are working alone or under the direct command of the last remnants of the batarian Hegemony.”  

 

Jane can’t _stand_ it.  Not only is she being brought into a fight that seems an awful lot like she’s only being given as a ‘clean up your own mess’ scolding, but now she has found that those very bastards she tried to save by having them join in their galaxy wide army are now biting the hand that fed them.   _What fucked up shit is that?_

 

Tightening her hands into fists, she looks up at the Council and stiffens her jaw.  If she is being roped up and dragged back into the fight no matter how much she kicks and screams, then they have a few demands.  One of which should be obvious to even these dim witted Councilors.

 

“We want the Normandy.”


	17. Chapter 17

-Garrus-

 

“But, Commander,” Councilor Osoba says with a confused and concerned frown, definitely something they don’t want to hear about to fall from his lips.  “The Normandy is still under repairs in Alliance custody.  It is destined to be permanently grounded as a monument to the war.”

 

“Then get it out of dry dock,” she says, wearing her Commander Shepard face, one that brokers no argument.  “We _will_ have the Normandy one way or another.  I suggest you get it for us if you want us to complete our mission with the utmost urgency and prompt.  Might just happen to get ‘lost’ upon our return.”

 

The threat is understood as Councilor Irissa crosses her arms at the small of her back and lifts her head just slightly to look down on them over her long, slender nose.  “We may be able to cater to your need to relive your days of glory.”  That gets both a narrow-eyed look from Jane and slight growl of irritation from Garrus.  “However, with the time-sensitive nature of this task, you may have to settle for another vessel depending on the Normandy’s condition.”

 

“It’s just a ship,” Dalatrass Linron says with a scowl.  

 

“It’s more than a ship.  It’s the only warship capable of reconnaissance,” Garrus explains, as if speaking to a child which, by the way the woman speaks and acts, may be very true.  

 

“The added benefit of it being a symbol of impending ass kicking doesn't hurt either,” his wife adds with a cocked hip and crossed arms.  “Either you get the Alliance to release the Normandy or we get her by our own means.”

 

“And how do you plan to account for the lack of systems being in disrepair?”  Octavia, a woman he once trusted, flicks her mandibles in disagreement to this entire conversation.  This change in her demeanor is unfamiliar, but, then again, it _has_ been years and ascensions through the ranks and tiers.  

 

He wonders if she’s still sore about his reaction to her insult to his mate where he pinned her against the metal wall.  She _did_ threaten to remember that, but surely she isn’t bringing it against them now?   _The wonders of stressors and what they manage to dig up at a time where compromises need to and must be made._

 

“The ship doesn’t rely on the VI-”

 

“ _AI_ ,” Linron corrects pointedly.  “Scans during repairs have shown that the Normandy has been equipped with a Cerberus AI this entire time.”

 

“That AI is responsible for destroying the Reapers,” Jane practically growls.  “Show some damn respect.”

 

“Responsible?”  Osoba looks to the others in shock, silent words being passed between them.

 

Irissa is the first to speak.  “Do have yet to explain what exactly happened, Commander.  I suggest you do so now.”

 

Even Garrus has heard much of what happened up there, deciding it was still a sore spot after what he does know.  EDI was there beside Jane, gave up her functionality for what was the last resort to try and end the genocide of the war.  She, too, was ready to die in a death alone and under the falling rubble of the crashing Citadel, but never anything more.

 

“I can’t explain it completely without sounding like an idiot,” his mate starts as she starts to pace, trying to collect everything that has happened into a cohesive explanation.  “It started with the Leviathan, creatures that had the natural ability to control those species it thought ‘inferior’.”

 

He nods, knowing this part at least.  “They noticed the same thing we have begun to understand, that dark energy is slowly breaking apart and killing the galaxy’s systems.  They set out to find a solution and created an artificial intelligence.”

 

“But it all went ass end backwards.  The damn thing came to the conclusion that the only way to fix the problem was to harvest all organics and turn them into a Reaper.”

 

“Why?”  His former friend drops her anger and distaste for interest in the subject.  

 

Linron, too, gets into the conversation by trying to add what her own people must have come to.  “Organics have the capabilities to balance out the dark energy, absorb it much like the use of biotics, but it comes at a cost.  It often destroys the host if too much is absorbed.”

 

“So the cycle repeats until it gets it right.”

 

“But what about the Crucible?” The human Councilor asks.

 

“The Crucible wasn’t a weapon.”  Gasps fill the room and Garrus looks to his mate, just as shocked to hear their attempts, it seems, to create a mass weapon was just a waste of time.  “It was a communications antenna that was destroyed in some cycle way before even the Protheans.”

 

“What of the Catalyst?  What importance did the Citadel hold?”

 

“It housed the Intelligence, what the Protheans thought was the Catalyst to the weapon.”

 

“The Citadel was this Intelligence?  A massive AI?”  Linron looks to the others and shakes her head.  “That’s impossible.  There’s no way.  It would never have remained hidden for so long.”

 

“After millennia, we still don’t know the purpose of the Keepers,” Garrus says in his mate’s defense, believing her wholeheartedly.  “We don’t know the entirety of how the Relays work either or how they connect to the Citadel.  It’s not hard to believe that we still hadn’t learned everything about the Citadel, that an AI could be housed within.”

 

“Where, _exactly_ , was this Intelligence?”

 

Jane looks to the turian Councilor and shrugs.  “I’d go for where the most destruction is.  When I went up in the beam, I was in a Keeper tunnel and didn’t really have a map for where I went.  Wherever I was, it was up high, in the central tower, I’d suspect.”

 

Irissa nods and says, “The central spire of the Citadel was destroyed as well as most of the center ring of the Presidium.  Repairs are being made to return systems to the station.”

 

“You still haven’t explained how you managed to stop the Reapers,” Linron points out.  “Or where the Normandy’s AI comes into play.”

 

“ _EDI_ was with me when we went up into the beam.”  Jane stops and looks directly to the Council, lifting her chin and crossing her hands behind her back.  “She determined that the only way to destroy the Reapers would be to destroy the Intelligence in a way that it would send a suicide order to the Reapers.  It was a long shot that might not have even worked, but she thought she could confuse it all to fuck and make it self-destruct.”

 

“That’s imposs-”

 

“Look, I don’t know how she did it, okay?  I’m not a tech or AI expert, I’m a soldier and I was half dead up there.  She said she would try as our last ditch effort and I told her to do it, knowing we’d die whether or not.  At least we could hopefully bring the bastards down with us.”  She sighs and her brows twitch in a frown for just a fraction of a second.  “If I understand correctly, it destroyed all the programs that involve Reaper code, including EDI and the Geth.”

 

“The Geth are not entirely destroyed,” the asari Councilor says.  “The Quarians are reporting that the Geth have reverted to a previous state in their programming.  They claim that the Geth no longer sport Reaper upgrades.”   _So perhaps EDI isn’t completely gone.  Still, I doubt she’s the same as before.  Joker must be taking it hard._ “Which brings us back to the matter at hand.”

 

“The Normandy’s AI could still be unstable,” Osoba explains.  “It is not at full capacity.”

 

“We flew in a Normandy without an AI before,” Garrus says, looking to his wife.  “Get us Flight Lieutenant Moreau and we can work with EDI’s situation.”

 

“And if the AI goes rogue?  No longer holds loyalty to you?”

 

Jane chuckles at that.  “She’s knows better.”

 

“Very well.  A request for the Normandy will be sent to the Alliance.”

 

“Screw a request,” she says to the human man.  “Tell Hackett either they release it or we come and take it.  We’re helping the Alliance in doing their dirty work so they better move their asses and get my ship ready.  I’m coming home.”

 

Councilor Irissa nods and looks amongst the others before they nod, then returning her eyes to the two of them, Procris long since moved out - most likely not wanting to hear them ‘coast on their past service’.  “Without needing anything further, this meeting is adjourned.”  

 

Sighing in frustration that no one seems to understand the meaning of ‘retirement’, he turns to his wife as the Council begins to move from their platform and into the door beyond.  “Just like old times, huh?”

 

She snorts and chuckles.  “Back in the saddle whether we like it or not.  At least we got the Normandy.  I wonder if we can get some of the old crew back on board with some old fashioned ass kicking.”

 

“They’d won’t be impressed with anything less than giant killer dreadnoughts or Thresher Maws.”

 

“Damn, we’re getting old,” she sighs in mock disappointment as they head for the lift.  “And boring.  Guess that’s what happens when you have children.”

 

He shrugs as they step in.  “I’m fine with that.”  Looking over to her to see her staring out the slats in the elevator doors, he rumbles in concern and takes her hand.  “You okay?”

 

“Yeah… Just remembering that day.  Fuck if we didn’t believe it’d all end right then and there.”  

 

“The thing about what happened up there-”

 

“It’s nothing, Garrus,” she interrupts with a squeeze and look to him, a smile not reaching her eyes crossing her face.  “We all knew the risks, even EDI.  I just hope it’s not like having someone hooked up to machines to keep them alive even though they aren’t going to come back, you know?  There physically, but gone and only kept alive for the sake of others not being able to say goodbye.”

 

He knows too well what she means, knows that, if not for those few lucid moments, it’d have felt cruel to force his mother to remain in that lost and confused state through the war.  He’d have been too big a coward to ensure it hadn’t happened, but he doesn’t fool himself into believing there isn’t a part of him happy for her that she was spared the horrors of what she would have seen but been unable to understand.  

 

The first woman he loved in his life deserved that peace and more.

 

Jane’s sigh brings him out of his thoughts as she leans against the wall.  “Hell, I really wish people understand the meaning of ‘I fucking quit so shove your missions up your ass’.  I mean, how hard _is_ that?  And now batarians?  Who thought up that shit idea?”

 

He nods in understanding, leaning against the wall beside her before huffing a laugh.  “It will be a nice chance to test out our new limbs.”

 

“Sucks that we don’t have our weapons or armors.  I miss my boomstick already.”

 

He snorts.  “ _Your_ weapon?  My Widow was one of a kind, modded to perfection.  Whoever finds my baby will never treat her right.”

 

“Uh huh… Are you trying to make me jealous of a rifle?”

 

“Well-”  A hard elbow to his side makes him laugh as she glares, but it’s all in good fun as he takes her elbow and spins her to face him.  Leaning down to her level, he purrs and kisses her, a gentle nip on the lips.  “There, there.  My deepest apologies.”

 

“You better be sorry.  I got all new legs to kick your ass with.”

 

“Mm… Maybe later.”

 

The Cargo Bay they arrive on is very different from the first time they were here.  It is still filled with an overabundance of people who should have homes, but it has begun to develop organization and order.  

 

Over half of the people that was once here must have been relocated, hopefully somewhere better than a ship’s cargo bay, and, instead of a constant overflow of people, there exists a coordinated grid of pathways and divided ‘homes’.  Drapes of cloth divide small areas of cots and beds on the floor, so similar to what he had seen on the Citadel just before the attack.  

 

It’s ridiculous how nothing has changed even after defeating the Reapers.

 

“You should contact Liara, see if we can find ourselves a ship.”  Jane stops and looks up to him.  “You okay?”

 

He looks down to her and smiles, nodding.  “Yeah.  Yeah, I’m good.  Just thinking.”

 

She chuckles as she opens her Tool, typing.  “Keep thinking like that and you’ll get so lost you’ll get your ass shot.”

 

“Yes, mother,” he deadpans before chuckling with her, squeezing her hand.  “What does Liara say?”

 

“She gave me the location of her ship’s dock.  She’s also offered to help acquire a transport for us while we wait with her and the babies.”  With a motion of her head, she starts to lead the way through the crowds and makeshift tents.  

 

Faces peek from behind drapes and gasps of awe and shock follow them as they walk, the home and helpless people trapped here on this ship seeing, for what could be the first time, heroes from the war.  He knows he should feel pride, should hold up his head and nod in thanks and acknowledgement to the recognition, but he can’t.  

 

What is there to be proud of?  Just managing to survive and bring as many as they can with them to the other side?

 

When they arrive at Liara’s Corvette, the _Illian,_ they are greeted at the airlock by their asari friend.  She smiles and speaks before they can question.  “Feron is working in my cabin while the children sleep.”  She hands Jane a datapad.  “We’ve started looking for a transport to Earth.”  Looking them over, she frowns at the sight of them.  “What happened?  What did they say?”

 

“We’re being sent to take out some Batarians.”

 

“Really?”  Liara sighs at his mate’s explanation.  “Goddess, they never give you any rest.”

 

“Pretty much.  But we demanded the damn Normandy.  Whether they like it or not, we will have our fucking ship.”

 

Garrus nods with a rumble of agreement and looks to the asari woman.  They don’t really get along as well as he knows they should, that they could be in a better situation if they forgave and forgot, but that doesn’t mean he is lying about his intentions when he asks, “Will you come with us?  We could use you on the Normandy.”

 

Her frown is answer enough, her look away even more so, but he lets her speak.  “I can’t.  I have so much work to do, so much information to get back up and running.  Besides,” she adds with a forced smile.  “I think you both will be fine without me.  Maybe next time?”

 

Jane sighs, but nods.  “Yeah.  Sure.  Maybe you can repair your network and swing for sending info our way.  If you ever decide you miss being shot at and running from explosions, you’re welcome back.”

 

“I’ll remember that, Shepard.”  Motioning the airlock, she lays a palm on the console of the first set of doors.  “Shall we?”

 

The inside of the Corvette is nice, but utilitarian.  It feels unlived in, as if just out of drydock, but not necessarily new.  Looking over the interior as they walk, Garrus figures this ship must have been purchased by the Shadow Broker for both personal transport and remaining undetected while flying in direct sight of the galaxy.  

 

When they are brought to Liara’s cabin with their sleeping children, the room quickly clears out to give them space and privacy.  It’s something they need right now, this the first time they can actually sit down and come to terms with being thrown into the line of fire again.

 

“You know we’ll have to find equipment again.”

 

He looks up to his wife and nods, humming in thought.  “Omega.”

 

“What?”

 

“We need to go to Omega,” he says as he looks to her shocked face.  Of course, it’s not like he _misses_ the place, but they need armor and weapons above what their militaries would offer and, with Spectre requisitions out of the picture for the time being, the black market of Omega is their best bet.  “The markets there are bound to be the best in the galaxy.”

 

She chuckles and sits on the bed in Liara’s room, leaning back onto her hands to stare at the ceiling.  “Guess we’ll be spending that pension on new equipment.”

 

He snorts.  “You got a pension?  I should switch militaries.”

 

“Don’t.  Pension isn’t worth the hoops you jump through.”  She looks back and smirks, nudging his foot with her boot.  “Plus, the uniforms would never fit.  Human clothes on a giant turian and all.”

 

“Never thought I’d go back to Omega on my own free will.”

 

“Never thought I’d go back to Omega _ever_.  Not really a vacation spot for the retirees.”

 

Chuckling, he nods as he comes to sit beside her.  “I still will miss my rifle.”

 

She laughs and nudges him, not hard enough to hurt, but enough to make him sway with a chuckle.  “Give it up, Vakarian.  I’ll get you a new Widow.”

 

“Think there’s some sort of, what do you call it, lost and found with the Spectre equipment?”  

 


	18. Chapter 18

-Jane-

 

Liara manages to find them a cargo ship headed for Earth that they quickly convince to take them on.  They _could_ have had the luxuries of flying as Spectres on a Council offered ship, but they are anything if not rebels going against anything that reminds them of their prison if it just means shacking up in one of the spare storage rooms with cots shoved up against the one another for their bodies.  Whatever Liara paid the Captain of the ship, it must have been good to earn his silence of their unorthodox transportation needs.

 

Sitting up in their cot, her mate in a fitful sleep - the too small unispecies cots not helping his back or legs that hang off the end - Jane quietly feeds Cassia from the tube of nutrient paste.  It’s definitely not something the infant likes or wants, but it's something the twins have gotten used to thanks to their supplies running low in the working camp, dwindled down to paste and the occasional jar of baby food for special occasions.  

 

If for anything, they have taken this job, once again, to provide the best that their children can get.  All the shit flung at them and political chain pulling the Council or Alliance can do to them doesn’t mean anything if they can give their children that.  

 

They will run through a swarm of bees if it means having honey on their table.

 

Jane and Garrus may not live like those assholes on the Ascension, but at least they can give their twins a life worth living through the shit they’ll most likely get once their genetically impossible existence gets out.  That is an unfortunate reality Jane cannot force herself into believing they’ll escape for long.

 

A soft chirp from within her arms draws her attention down to her daughter, mouth slathered in the dark green-blue paste and chuckles.  “Like it?” She whispers as she uses her fingers to wipe at the paste, offering it to the tiny searching mouth with growing, needle-like teeth.  “And to think _you’re_ the clean one.”

 

Cassia merely suckles her fingers in response, purring loud and tiny hands gripping her shirt and tangling in the red curls hanging over her shoulders.  Damocles, as oblivious to the world as his dad after his feeding, sleeps over her legs, head in her lap and warm dribble of drool from his mouth on her pale skin.  It’s a blissful feeling, surrounded by her small family, and one she wishes would never end, even with the universe apparently unable to keep itself from falling apart under the breeze of any sign difficulty like it seems to be doing.

 

The warm turian beside her rolls gently with a rumbling purr, heavy with sleep and exhaustion from the past few days of transport.  It’s her sign to know he’s waking and she smiles, dropping a hand to his fringe as he nuzzles her thigh.  “‘Morning,” she greets softly as she caresses gently, pulling a sleepy smile from him.

 

“How long have you been awake?”  His eyes don’t open as he reaches over and lays a soft hand on their son’s back, thumb stroking gently.  

 

“Maybe an hour?”  She shrugs, not too sure how long it’s been and not really having bothered to look.  “Not sure.”

 

“What woke you?”

 

“My leg was aching.”  Her left leg tends to do that after extended periods of wearing her prosthetics.  Not that they aren’t the best out there, just that even the best doesn’t compare to the real thing.  She figures there will always be an ache remaining of what was once there.  “And I heard the babies waking, so I decided to take care of them before they woke you.”

 

He frowns and finally opens his eyes.  “Want me to take a look at your legs?  It might need to be adjusted.”

 

“You mean _calibrated_?”  She can’t help it, smirking at the jab he walks right into.

 

“Ha ha.  Should you really be insulting the man willing to check out your legs when they aren’t even attached?” He jokes back with his own smirk, slowly, and stiffly, getting up to sit with the distinct sounds of popping and she frowns in concern.

 

“You okay?”

 

Nodding, he smiles in reassurance and holds hands out for their daughter.  “I’ve had worse than a few nights on an uncomfortable cot,” he says as she situated her in his arms, against his angled and now broadened chest.  

 

He really is starting to look like his old self thanks to the work he’s had been doing back at the work camp.  She, too, spent some time clearing rubble when he was too tired and swapped out baby duty and feels closer to her condition before everything went sideways.  Completely back to normal?  Maybe not, but definitely not so out of shape that she won’t be able to carry an armor kit or blast someone out of her way with her biotics.

 

 _Guess we weren’t all that ready to retire, after all,_ she thinks as she looks them over, rolling her burned shoulder.  “Ever think we wouldn’t stayed retired completely?”

 

Garrus chuckles at that and shrugs.  “Entirely?  Probably not?  But I like to think we’d have taken Arcanus up on his offer to finally be our own bosses for a change.   _After_ a long vacation.”

 

She snorts and looks to him with a smirk.  “Someplace tropical with a beach?”  At her raised brow, he flicks his mandibles in an ‘absolutely’.  “You don’t even swim.”

 

“Perhaps not, but you do and I can’t deny imagining you in one of those, what do humans call it?”

 

“Bikinis?  Swimsuits?”

 

“Either one.”  She snorts and he smiles, leaning over to kiss her cheek with a soft flick of his tongue.  “Now, I’m sure you don’t smell it, but one of these two is in need of a change.”

 

“I don’t smell that,” she says with a confused frown, fighting the urge to question him with a sniff of the air.

 

“You will,” he assures as he gets up, nuzzling Cassia’s head, and heads to the duffle laying in the corner of the room with their things.

 

“Wait.”  As quickly as possible, she gently lifts Damocles from her lap and lays him on his dad’s warm pillow.  “Let me get it.  No use hurting your back worse trying to bend over or change the baby’s diaper on the floor.”

 

She gets a look of stubborn questioning of her intent on following up that demand, but he relents with a nod and steps back, but not before making a demand of his own.  “Give me that leg that’s bothering you.”

 

Sighing, Jane nods and sits on the small floor space they have left in this cramped storage room.  When she lifts her arms for the bundle of chirping and trilling baby, he hands their daughter down and rumbling in impatience for her to follow up on her end of the deal.  

 

She does, gently laying Cassia down before reaching to her leg.  Pressing the locks and closing her eyes, she relaxes the limb, ultimately signaling the nerve connections of the disconnect just before it hisses with a release.  The limb is heavier in her hands than it feels like on her thigh, but lighter than she’d have expected given its capabilities, and she hands it up to him.  He takes it easily enough and walks to the beds to examine and see what he can do with it while she works on tending to their infant daughter.

 

Jane reaches into the duffle and removes the cleaning wipes and diapers, forgoing a clean outfit just in case this one isn’t yet dirty.  It’s not what she’d have chosen to do, but with them having to stretch out what little clothes they have for them during this trip with no water available to just do laundry, she’d rather they be in slightly used clothes than naked or being forced to wear soiled outfits.

 

“Oh my god,” she chokes out when she removes the one piece outfit that drapes over their tiny girl, releasing the smell she was promised.  “Holy shit…”

 

Garrus, the bastard, merely chuckles with a wave of his hand before his nose.  “Told you.  And when you’re done with her, I think Damocles has one for you too.”

 

“Lucky me,” she deadpans as she balls up the horror tightly to conceal the stink until she can dispose of it after.  “Jesus, how can she stink so badly?”

 

“Hey now, that’s my daughter you’re talking about.”

 

“Damn right she is.  No daughter of mine could make this sort of noxious weapon of war,” she says as she grabs some wipes and gently starts to clean Cassia’s cloaca, the baby giggling at the ticklish feeling.  “Yes, you made a big stinky.  And your daddy tricked mommy into cleaning yours _and_ your brother’s poopy diapers.”

 

He snorts and purrs.  “I’d have done it.”

 

Smiling to him, she nods and replies, “I know, Garrus.”  She then smirks and chuckles.  “And I’d have never been able to get you off the floor, old man.”

 

He pauses and mulls that over, trilling.  “ _Old man?_ ”  His look he throws her makes her bark a laugh, so full of indignation and mock hurt.  “You hurt me, Jane Vakarian.”

 

“Good,” she says with a smirk as she balls up the dirty wipes and grabs a fresh diaper.  “You deserve to be brought down a notch every once and awhile.  Getting too cocky.”

 

“And here I thought you like me being-” She interrupts him by tossing the pack of sanitary wipes at him, which he dodges.  He chuckles and sets her leg down to come to her.  Cassia is handed up and he cradles the baby to his side as he walks to the bed to trade out infants.  “I think I got what’s wrong with your leg.”

 

“Yeah?”  Damocles snuggles sleepily against her chest once he’s in her arms, purring and making cute little cheeping chirps.  “What’s the problem?”

 

“It’s too sensitive.”  When she raises a brow, too occupied stripping their equally smelly son of his dirty diaper, he explains, “You’re leg doesn’t hurt right now, does it?”

 

“Actually, no.  It feels incredible, like nothing was wrong when before it was killing me.”  She hums in realization of what he means.  “Can you fix it?”

 

“I’ll need some tools, but, yeah, I’m pretty sure it just entails a few adjustments to its sensory output.  I might even just be able to-”

 

“Whoa,” she interrupts as she balls up the diaper and starts in on cleaning Damocles’ rear.  “Save the techy jargon.  I haven’t suddenly learned what all that bullshit means after all this time of sitting on my ass.”

 

He mock scoffs.  “Would it have hurt to pick up a datapad once and awhile?”

 

Snorting, she laughs and hears their son laugh with her.  “Even Damocles thinks that’s an absolutely preposterous idea.  Who has time to _read_?”

 

“You’re right.   _Much_ more important things to do.”  Garrus rumbles and chuckles, nudging her with his foot.  “Like laying on the bed napping with the kids.”

 

She remembers spending a lot of the time he was away with their children, tending to and spending time with their children while he was away.  There wasn’t much to do otherwise and, on those days he was home while she was out, she knows he couldn’t bring himself to do much more than that as well.

 

“That _is_ pretty important.  I need my beauty rest.  What was your excuse?”

 

“Deep meditation.”

 

Chuckling, she shakes her head and starts to scoot herself across the floor, son in her arms.  “Alright, meditate yourself into helping me over to the bed.”

 

Footsteps come to her position and a strong arm wraps around her waist.  “Hold onto Damocles,” is all he says before he hefts her up into his arms, carrying her to bed and laying her down beside their daughter.  

 

Once she’s up and sitting against the wall, he smiles and kisses her forehead with his own.  “I’ll dispose of the waste and see if I can find some equipment around her to work on your leg.  It shouldn’t be too hard to find what I need.”

 

She nods as he bends down to collect the dirty diapers and wipes, stepping out a moment later.  It gives her the chance to think about their next step.  

 

Of course they were going to take down these batarian bastards, but _before_ that they have to figure out where the fuck they even were, where they were attacking the human ships and why.  No doubt because of some human-hate bullshit, but she just _knows_ that the Council will want actual hard evidence besides her suspicions.   _Because we all know how well they followed me on just my word that it was true._

 

Yet, even this job wasn’t that easy.

 

They still need a ship.  They’ll take the Normandy whether the Alliance hands it over or not and she’s sure Joker isn’t too far from the Normandy at all times, so they have a pilot, but they still need a crew now that EDI is out of commission until she can be fixed.  Even more important, because she’s sure she’d get herself a ship crew if she demanded it with little to no protest for the sake of the vessel, is a ground team.

 

Who would really leave their homeworld, their newly gained life, to go on some grand new adventure with them?  Liara already proved that she has much too much to do with rebuilding the Shadow Broker network as well as aiding Thessia’s rebuilding efforts, so can Jane really expect others to do the same?

 

Smiling at at least one person she has a good suspicion will jump at the opportunity to join them, she pulls up her newly acquired Omni-Tool, dialing one of the comm channels Liara had given her.  At least one familiar face on the ground with them will be better than none.

 

“ _Vega_.”

 

“James,” she says when he answers, grinning.

 

_“Holy hell.  Lola?!  How’s the civilian life treating ya?”_

 

She chuckles and caresses runs her hand over Damocles’ stubs of a fringe, soothing him to sleep.  “Actually, we got found out.  The Council found us.”

 

“ _Pinche madre…  Sorry to hear that, Lola.”_ He chuckles.  “ _But, hey, I bet that means you’ll be back here taking the Normandy out of the Alliance’s hands.  How sweet of you.”_

 

“That’s why I called.  I need a crew.”

 

“ _Does Scars know you’re thinking about me, Lola?  If I’d known you were so lonely, I’d have visited you more.”_

 

Jane snorts and smirks, saying, “I always knew you’d drop _everything_ at my beck and call.”

 

“ _Uh… So…”_

 

“Easy, Vega,” she responds with a chuckle, leaning against the wall with a sigh.  “Just tell me you can join us?”  She’s not above pleading to a friend if it gets her some familiarity in this world that she didn't think she’d come back to and, thankfully, she doesn’t have to get on her knees to get his answer.  

 

“ _Hell yeah!  I was wondering when you’d hurry up and ask, Lola.”_ She can practically imagine his big grin from the other side.  “ _And, hey, maybe this will pass as my N-training, no?  I mean, what better training than the best?”_

 

Snorting, she rolls her eyes and chuckles.  “Don’t get ahead of yourself.  I won’t say no to the idea, but you’d have to take that up with the Alliance.”

 

“ _The pendejos would be stupid to say ‘no’, but, for what it's worth, Esteban and I are with you.”_

 

“Cortez?  How do you know?”

 

His scoff comes from the other side of the channel.  “ _You think Esteban **likes** being a delivery boy?  Nah, he’d be loco not to want back in.”_

 

She figures he knows the man better than she does, the two of them spending the most time together down in the cargo bay as well as whatever friendship they must have had serving together before the Normandy.  “Know anything about the others?  I figured Ash has her own Spectre work, but have you heard from Alenko?  Hell, Jack even.  She was working with the Alliance with her kids.”

 

“ _Afraid I hadn’t heard anything about Tats, but he’s around here somewhere.  Heard he blew his implant fighting the Reapers and was out for almost as long as you guys.  Don’t know if he’s still fighting or what.”_

 

“Think you can contact him?  We’re still a few days out.”

 

“ _No shit?  You’re already heading to Earth?  Hell, why doesn’t anyone tell me these things?!”_

 

She chuckles.  “Telling you now, Vega.  Contact whoever you can that’s on Earth and let them know Garrus and I are back in business.  If they want in, they’re in.”

 

“ _Now **that’s** what a man likes to hear!  I’ll get the word out if Doc hasn’t already.  Whoever is still on Earth will be there.”_


	19. Chapter 19

-Garrus-

When they land on Earth, there is no time to stop and contemplate visiting his family, already delaying their mission - and possibly costing human lives - so they can get to Omega to be prepared. They are, quite literally, ushered towards the Nomandy's dock as soon as they set foot onto human soil, an Alliance escort meeting them at the cargo ship's airlock.

Garrus supposes that they they might as well have taken a Council ship when they had to alert everyone of their transport anyways in order to not be taken as going AWOL again. Not that they wouldn't have _tried_ if their children's safety and privacy hadn't been riding on their cooperation.

So it was back out into the cold drizzle of Earth's war torn streets and air heavy with the ash and dust of destruction. As depressingly dismal as it sounds, he is actually more at peace in seeing a world rebuilding from the war with soldiers and refugees than a ship full of politicians living their lives as if nothing had happened. Here, the war is not forgotten or ignored, but the people are moving forward, reclaiming what was theirs and making a life anew.

Each child in their arms is held close and cradles from the chill and wandering eyes, the idea that others finally know of the existence of such a delicate weakness for the two of them an unsettling one. The only thing worse than their current situation would be if anyone beyond their trusted circle were to know of the infants' _actual_ birth parents. Being the children of two separate species won't get them many friends or allies that aren't ready and willing to cut them open.

At least they are given a friendly face in James when he rushes through the crowd here to watch the galaxy's most famous ship take to the air once again. "Lola! Scars!" he shouts as he excuses himself from barreling through the dense collection of people from every species.

No longer in need of their escort, Jane leads the way past the Alliance guard and into the crowd, rushing to Vega and giving him a hard punch to the shoulder with her free hand. Garrus is not far behind as he chuckles, watching James wince playfully and rub his shoulder.

"Aye, easy, Lola," he says with a chuckle. "I'm _fragile_."

She snorts. "Yeah, maybe twenty years ago with you were still shitting in diapers." Shifting Cassia in her arms, she gives a jerk of her head towards the ship in its docking clamps. "She ready, you think?"

"Now's a good time to see," he responds with a smirk that she snorts and Garrus chuckles at.

"Right. Because that'll be a way to kick off our continued careers."

"Come on, Scars. Don't be so negative."

"That'll be the day." Jane snorts as they cut through the crowd to the Alliance checkpoint before the Normandy's dock. Sighing, she looks up the ramp towards the ship that had been more of a home for them than their apartment back on the Citadel so many years ago. "Might as well bite the damn bullet."

"Did you manage to get a hold of anyone?" Garrus asks as he hears their son starting to wake, cupping his head with a rumbling purr in his chest in hopes to lull him back to sleep. The last thing they need is their bawling son to attract more attention than the Normandy with this crowd.

James grins and nods, motioning to follow him. "They're waiting at the second Alliance checkpoint-"

"Not everyone," a friendly voice rumbles and all three turn, Garrus nodding in greeting as Jane grins at the older turian.

"Arcanus," she greets. "You going to join us?"

"Unfortunately, no. At this time, I feel my expertise is better put to use rebuilding the Blue Suns." He looks to the Alliance guard with a questioning look and they follow him aside, some distance from crowd and Alliance ears. "I am actually here concerning the task you had asked of me."

Garrus growls and nods, holding his child closer out of instinct. He knows well why Arcanus is here, the merc that sold them out to the Alliance and starting this entire flood of responsibilities they should have been absolved of the moment they almost gave their lives to end the war.

Yet, it's Jane that speaks before he can. "You found the fucker? Who is it?"

"An engineer from the Terminus sector of my organization, Boothe."

"Name doesn't matter." Garrus growls and narrows his eyes, the only reason his hands aren't balled into fists, the tender child in his arms. "Where are they?"

"He." A jerk of his head points to a human Blue Suns operative, armed and armored.

"He's armed," Jane says as she gives the older man a narrow-eyed look. "I thought you were going to hand him over."

"He will not be a problem for two such as yourself and he is not aware that there is anything to be concerned about. As far as he believes, he is here as by order to assist me only." Arcanus crosses his arms behind his back and flicks his mandibles slightly. "My men need to learn the consequences of biting the hands that feed, so to speak. You both are responsible for ensuring there is still a galaxy to work within."

Garrus chuckles and jokes, taking a playful jab at the man. "And here I thought the only sense of honor a merc had was one that could be bought."

"I, too, believed that Archangel would never allow the color blue to leave his sight, but now he even calls on a merc leader for assistance," the white turian throws back with a chuckle. "Do you what you will to Boothe. He will remain as a lesson to those that move against my allies from within my own organization."

"Here, hold Cassia." With a scowl, Jane hands their daughter over to a completely unprepared Arcanus, making him trill in surprise as he grips the baby at arms' length. "Come on, Garrus."

He chuckles at the older man's look of, not quite disgust but disinterest at the wiggling life in his hands, and offers Damocles to the all too willing James, the big human bouncing the tiny baby as he says something in that language that doesn't translate. Following his mate, his humor quickly fades as they draw closer to the Blue Suns armor just along the perimeter of the crowd.

Before he even knows what hits him, Boothe gets one of her biotically engulfed punches across the face, nose making a sickening snap that seems to echo. He crashes to the ground like a boneless heap with a startled grunt and curses, hand reaching for a weapon that Garrus kicks into the grass away from the crowd that hasn't seemed to notice.

If anyone does, they can always use the excuse of their Spectre authority. No one would question two Spectres taking a mercenary down in a galaxy that's looking for any sense of normality and continuation of what they all knew before. _This_ can be that step back into that familiarity.

"The _fuck_ is wrong with - oh shit," Boothe's anger quickly dissipates as his eyes widen in realization, then narrow in anger at them both as he spits both blood and words. " _You._ "

"Yes, 'us'," Jane says with a heavy boot to his chest, kicking him down before she shoves her foot against his neck. His hands shoot up to hold her weight off as she scowls, Garrus growling at her side, ready to step in only when she acts like she needs it. Not that he ever expects that, but he can't have _all_ the fun with whatever poor fool gets in their way, after all. "You sold us out, you piece of mother fucking horse shit."

 _Even worse, you started this entire downward spiral_ , he thinks with hard set mandibles. _Without you, we wouldn't be playing Council puppets in order to protect our children._

The man spits blood on her boot and chuckles, grinning wide with red stained teeth. "You forgot what you are, Shepard. You're just some whore to the turians-"

His words are cut off into a choke as she grinds her boot. "You work with and _for_ a turians, you dip shit. I don't believe this was all some turian-hating bullshit." She adds more weight. "Try again."

"I don't… _work_ for him… I work… Vosque." Jane and Garrus share a look, one passing that speaks of how this man's line of thinking doesn't possibly lead anywhere but in circles. As they do, he coughs and spits out phlegm tinged with red. "And I might work _for_ them, but I didn't fucking _marry_ one of the fucking monsters that killed our people in the First Contact War! I don't fucking _fuck_ the bastards that didn't even help against the Reapers until the end! You forgot your loyal-"

"Enough!" She cuts his rant off with a weight that is sure to be on the verge of snapping his neck, looking to Garrus. "Your racism doesn't make any fucking sense. You sold us out for some diluted sense of spite. Who was your Alliance contact?"

"F… Fuck… you… Never…"

Garrus growls and is about to step in, knowing they won't get anything from the man without money - it being the way of the merc, after all - when he hears a crack that comes with Jane's forceful twist of her foot. All struggle falls from the man as he falls utterly still, breath leaving in an almost inaudible sigh.

"He deserved worse," Jane says as some in the crowd finally begin to realize the two are standing above a now dead body, giving them a wide berth as the helmeted heads of Alliance soldiers begin to bob through the throng towards them.

"But we don't have the time," He agrees as they both step away from the body to turn towards the incoming Alliance, projecting an air of superiority. _Time to use this Spectre authority again_.

"Sirs," they salute quickly before one motions the dead merc and the other takes to one knee to run his Omni-Tool's diagnostics. "What seems to be the issue here?"

"Spectre matters," Jane says as she lifts her chin and crosses her arms behind her back. "This merc was carrying a weapon and, with our history with mercenaries, we deemed it too big of a possibility that he was here for nothing short of trying to ruin this launch, possibly costing people's lives."

Their helmeted heads look to each other before the one addressing the two Spectres nods and motions with his weapon back towards the Normandy's docks. "You two should hurry back. I think the Admiral is waiting for you."

Of _course_ they wouldn't be able to escape Earth without meeting the one man that, in Garrus' eyes, started this all. If not for Hackett's order to bring them to the Berlin - well, mostly Jane because he's pretty sure his presence was mostly to cater to the Hierarchy's need for one of their own - they wouldn't currently be heading into, yet another, mission that is bound to end in gunfire. It's because of the Alliance's near constant need for their 'Commander Shepard' that they haven't been able to find rest.

His mate sighs and nods, leading the way to the Normandy. Sure enough, waiting among the few of their crew - too few for Garrus' initial hopes for a full team - is Admiral Hackett, hands folded in the crook of his back.

"Spectres Shepard and Vakarian," he greets with a stern look.

"Admiral. I wasn't aware you'd be here to see the Normandy off." Jane motions the crew behind him, one of their children in both James' arms currently playing with his dog tags. "If we knew this would be such a huge occasion, I'd have borrowed dress blues," she says with a quirk of her lips.

"Stow it with the jokes," he says with no little hint of reprimand. "The Normandy is still an Alliance ship." Motioning to the crowd at his back, Kaidan steps forward with a confused and questioning look between them.

"Sir?"

"Major Alenko, I want you to be an ambassador aboard the Normandy-"

"Now wait just a damn minute-"

"Sir," Kaidan starts with a frown. "I blew my L2 completely. I'm no longer fit for ground missions. I wouldn't be any help to Shepard or her crew."

"I am aware you are capable of monitoring the Eezo output of the core in accordance to the Alliance guidelines to prevent crew exposure?"

Alenko nods, but responds. "I did that for the first Normandy, yes, but-"

"You will assist the crew now." The Admiral looks to the two fuming Spectres. "Unless you deem another able to ensure your crew is safe of Eezo exposure?"

"No," Jane grinds out. "But we don't need an _ambassador_ to the Alliance-"

"I'm afraid you do. So far, you haven't given me any indication that you will do your job in properly representing humanity in the galaxy. Remember, Shepard, you were the first human Spectre because you were thought to be the best the Alliance had to offer."

"Which she did by _saving the damn galaxy_ ," Garrus growls, looking to Alenko then back to the Admiral. "We could use the help aboard, but we don't need the Alliance breathing down her neck to do our jobs. We didn't before and we don't know."

"Be that as it may, Alenko remain so long as the Normandy serves under humanity's Spectre."

He leaves them, not hearing their protests or curses. That leaves them with Alenko who, at least, has the decency to look put out by the decision. Garrus shouldn't be angry, necessarily, at the man, but he can't help to loathe him now that Hackett has retreated to the stage in front of the Normandy for his grand speech.

"Shep-"

She holds up a hand and shakes her head. "Don't apologize for Hackett, the fuck. He's been riding me since waking up in the Berlin." Huffing an unamused laugh, she looks to him. "What happened to your L2?"

The human biotic frowns. "I overexerted myself out on the field. Hell, I did worse than that." He rubs his neck and sighs, explaining, "They just never stopped, I never had a chance to rest my implant, and, suddenly, I felt this horrible pain just explode in my mind before everything went black. I've been in the hospital until about a month ago… They said I will probably never be able to go back out on the field."

"Fucking shit," she breathes in shock. "Damn, that's brutal. But, you are always welcome on the ship, with or without the Alliance mandate." Chuckling, she offers her hand and Kaidan takes it gratefully.

"Count me in, Shepard."

"Hey! What about us?" Donnelly and Daniels walk from the crowd of volunteered crew, coming and offering his hand, which the two Spectres take. "Damn good to see you again."

"Permission to come aboard, sirs?" Gabby asks with a smile and looks to the Normandy. "We sure missed the old girl."

Garrus chuckles and looks to the ship before the two engineers, nodding when they look over. "It wouldn't be the same without you two."

Jane nods in agreement. "Welcome aboard."

They grin widely, and there may have been some bouncing on Gabby's part, as they head to the crew. Their numbers begin to climb into the ship as Hackett speaks and Vega comes to them, offering the babies to each. "So we're really doing this, huh?"

"Yep. Better be ready for battle, James."

"Please, Lola. I was ready _way_ before you old relics were."

She blinks before lifting a brow. "I'm sorry, did you just call us ' _old relics_ '? Oh, you're in for it now." Punching him in the shoulder, she motions the ship. "Get your ass aboard before we decide to rip you a new one right here in front of the rest of the galaxy."

Grinning, he gives off a mock salute and rushes to the ship, Cortez waving before following. With the crew that will join them filing onto the ship, too few for Garrus' liking but them without the ability to wait for others to decide to join and travel, he looks to his mate and sighs. "Here's to finding more soon."

She snorts and smirks. "You know us, always tending to find the most high functioning misfits in the galaxy." Patting his shoulder, she smiles. "Others will turn up. Won't they, Damocles?" she asks their son in her arms and chuckles when he simply chews on her hair in response.

Their friend that will not be joining them approaches, hood drawn up against the building rain. "I assume you took care of your issue without concern?" Arcanus asks with an interested rumble.

"We owe you." A raised hand is all Garrus gets in answer to that. "Then at least think about joining us. We are sure Liara's old office is unclaimed and perfect for your needs to remain in contact with the Blue Suns."

"I…will consider it, but know the offer is appreciated. Should my duties permit, it would be a pleasure to fight alongside the two of you again."

"Lola! Scars! Move it before Joker takes off without you!"

The older man chuckles and nods, saying with a humorous rumble, "It would seem that you are expected aboard. I would advise caution, but it would fall on deaf ears."

"True that," Jane agrees as she rubs their son's back and nods in parting. Garrus, too, nods with a rumbled goodbye, receiving the same from Arcanus before they rush to the Normandy, climbing in at the peak of Admiral Hackett's speech.

"There's the happy couple!" Joker shouts from the cockpit, hands flying over the console. Whatever is going on with EDI, he has seemed to put it aside for his duty and that, for now, as earned some of Garrus' respect after the rough history between them.

"Yeah, yeah," Jane says as the two of them enter the cockpit just as the engines fire up. "Let's get back to the fight."


	20. Chapter 20

-Jane-

From what she can already see of the Normandy looking down the CIC from the airlock and cockpit, not much has changed. It seems like the retrofit planned for before the war was finally completed, but everything else is exactly as they left it. It's almost eerie.

Well, there is one big difference. That being the lack of faces they know, the missing presence that occupied the entire ship. _I have to tell Joker what happened up there. He, of all people, needs to know._

Looking to her husband, she motions to their son in silent question. He glances to the pilot, a man that he hasn't completely got along with since her death, and sighs, nodding. With a smile in thanks, she shifts Damocles into Garrus' arm other arm, the baby starting to chew at the strap of the duffle over his shoulder.

"I'll go see what we will need for the Loft," he says with a press to her forehead before heading down the steps of the cockpit and down the path to the CIC. She watches him greet what has to be crew from the previous tour of duty before turning to the large view of the Relay as they draw closer.

She knows better than to speak as Joker's fingers fly over the commands, bringing the Normandy into the orbit of the massive technological advancement. The shift of the air around the cockpit is subtle, but one that still pulls at the body, as is becoming light and weightless while rooted to the metal of the floor. She has spent a good part of her life in space, jumping through FTL and Relays, but it still feels like a new experience each time, that pull within her belly something one doesn't just get used to as a galaxy jumps before your eyes.

All she can hope is that the Relays are more reliable than they supposedly were in the beginning. The last thing they need is an even longer delay trying to work with a random system generator type of Relay setup.

"I know you want to talk," Joker finally says when the weightless pull ceases from the completion of the jump, Omega showing up on the ship's sensory systems. "I don't."

"Joker-"

"No!" He sighs and shakes his head. "Just no." A glance back reveals she hasn't move and he groans, fidgeting with his hat. "The techs say that there's something of her there, but a lot is missing. They don't know if they can fill the destroyed bits."

"Reaper code." At his confused look, she adds, "She said she was made with Reaper code. It's also how she was able to destroy them, but using her programing to fuck it up enough that it self-destructed."

"Did she know? You know… that she'd die?"

The look on his face makes her rethink being blunt, telling him that, yes, they both knew there was no coming back. True, even Jane defied the odds, and EDI might as well, so perhaps she is merely being cynical in suspecting EDI, even as an AI, would not have found reason to hope.

"She knew there was a chance," Jane says, not able to completely lie. Which would be worse, the AI at least being prepared for it or being horrifically surprised? "But she knew it was the only way. She did it for all of us, for you."

Unable to give much more than that, than empty platitudes, she turns to leave, being stopped with he calls out. "Hey, Shepard." When she looks back, he is finally looking to her over the side of the seat. "It still hurts, but… thanks."

She nods. "I know it wouldn't ease the pain, but we'll get her back. One way or another. She's not out of this, yet."

Joker merely nods, frowning in thought as he turns back to navigating the ship into Omega's orbit. She leaves him to his sorrows, knowing he won't let it get to the mission or his job. He's a professional, the best at what he does, and there is still no guarantee that EDI is entirely gone even though Jane has a hard time convincing herself that EDI will just come back as if waking from a deep sleep.

As she passes through the CIC, the doors the to what used to be the security checkpoint between here and the War Room - she doesn't know what it is now - opens and a slightly distracted Traynor with her nose in a datapad. Smirking, Jane waits until the young woman begins to mumble something to herself before stepping in the way and speaking.

"Hard at work already, I see."

She takes pride in the small yelp of surprise that comes from Traynor as she drops the datapad and looks up with wide eyes. "Commander!"

"Well, I don't really think I'm a Commander," she corrects with a shrug and chuckle. "But who the hell knows anymore." Bending to pick up the datapad, she hands it over. "Good to see you aboard. I take it you'll be keeping in contact with Liara and the others? It'd be good to still have the Broker on speed dial."

Samantha nods and smiles, ducking the pad under her arm. "Yes, ma'am. The comm channel has been going crazy since Liara told everyone you were taking the Normandy out again."

Jane actually laughs at that, shaking her head at just what everyone must be demanding. She's pretty sure a lot of it is along the lines of 'come see my planet!', 'No! Come see _my_ planet!'. "I can see how it's pretty big news for the galaxy, friends included. Anyone that I should take before landing on Omega or are they all to say 'hey' or 'fucking idiot for working again'?"

The younger woman blinks a bit at the blunt cursing before shaking it off with a check at her datapad. _Must really be a lot of people trying to talk to me_. "Liara said that, aside from everyone wanting to speak, Wrex wanted to talk to you personally ever since she told him we were headed for Omega."

"No clue what about?" When she shakes her head, Jane taps crosses her arms and drums her fingers in thought. "Guess I'll see what the old bastard wants before we dock at the station. I have a feeling Aria will want to talk as soon as the airlock swings open."

"I'll connect you to Tuchanka," Traynor says as she heads to her station and Jane heads for where the comm room last was. Ignoring the lack of active security scanner and Privates Westmoreland and Campbell within the checkpoint and personnel within the War Room monitoring comm channels and fleet reports, everything is as it was during the war.

It might be as some sort of monument to the war and the galaxy altering decisions that took place here, something that was probably intended if they had succeeded in turning the Normandy into the grounded, glorified amusement park attraction the Alliance had wanted. Whatever it was _meant_ to be, it was nothing but a horrible reminder of everything and everyone lost in the darkest time the galaxy has ever seen.

She absolutely hated it.

There is nothing she can do about it, however, but to simply live with the massive waste of space on the ship that could use the extra space. Perhaps, when they get a bigger crew, they can turn this space into something better suited for an active warship without having to take it out of the fight for too long. God only knows how long the Council will stay off their asses in-between missions.

Stepping into the Comm Room, she lays her hand on the intercom. "Traynor, set up the connection."

"Wrex is already ready. The connection is unstable from his side, so I can't say it'll be of good quality."

"I'm just surprised they gave him a QEC," she says with a chuckle as she steps up to the comm. "Though, I guess it's the best way to keep the peace between people."

" _What?_ " Wrex's voice booms through the comm as his static-filled image appears, his size almost too much for the QEC's sensors.

"I was just saying what an ugly fuck you are."

He barks a laugh. " _And that's coming from the woman married to the turian_."

Chuckling, she shakes her head and smiles at her old friend. "Traynor and Liara say you want to speak with me?"

" _Is it true you're heading to Omega?"_ She nods and he says, " _I need to ask a favor, Shepard. There's a female on Omega and she doesn't have a damn clue what she's doing."_

"Easy. Most might take that as an insult." Seeing that he doesn't mean it in any other way but concern, she sighs and crosses her arms, profession washing over her. "What makes you think she needs our help?"

_"_ _She's not like other krogan, Shepard. Instead of rebuilding with what we have, she thinks we should try to advance our technology. Not for war as most want, but to get more out of the Tuchankan soil and water, how to clean the air, track Maws and prepare for them."_

"Sounds like a just cause. Why Omega?"

" _That's where her age is showing her stupidity."_ He growls and shakes his head, scowling. " _She's looking for an old krogan, Hyll. Used to run Omega before Aria."_

"Patriarch? But he's dead."

" _I figured. Stubborn as she is, she didn't believe me."_

Drumming her fingers in thought, she soon sighs and runs her hand over her head. "What did she want with him? What did he have that she thought would help her?"

" _There's a story that he killed STG that were trying to 'investigate' the Shroud and kept their Tools. Whether or not that's true, or if those Tools even had any tech information, she seems to think it's worth it… Look, Shepard. She's a fertile female on a station of krogan that weren't on Tuchanka when the cure was released. I don't care if you bring her back first thing or keep her on the ship until you reach Earth, I just want her_ _ **off**_ _Omega."_

"What's her name?"

" _Urdnot Rym. And Shepard? I owe you."_

"You most certainly do," she agrees as the connection ends from his side, sighing as she leans on the console. "A female krogan somewhere on Omega. Shouldn't be too hard to find, just need look for needle in a haystack. Hell, we might just bump into each other."


	21. Chapter 21

-Garrus-

It's hard to decide whether it's good or not that Omega doesn't seem at all affected by the war. Even Cerberus' influence has been wiped from the blood stained slate of the station, burned away with the multitude of bodies disposed of everyday in the fires of pyres for the seemingly worthless. One of the Archangel team, Mierin had once said, 'Whatever we are in life, we are all the same in death' and, here, the piles ready for the flame are the great equalizers.

What's even worse is that terrifying feeling of being entirely naked and defenseless only the barely holding together clothes from their stay at the refugee camp. At least, thanks to James not needing to leave the ship on this station, they have someone capable to fight should anything happen aboard the Normandy with their children.

Not that anyone would get past the airlock thanks to his paranoia of this place insisting the Normandy be completely locked down except for access to one entrance and only by acknowledged entry by James himself as their XO.

True to their suspicions, one of Aria's men comes to 'fetch' them to her presence. At least, he thinks, it's a familiar and somewhat friendly face in Bray as he motions them to follow. Although, the complete lack of communication beyond the summons tells of perhaps their welcome being worn out long ago.

"So, Bray-"

"So, Shepard," he interrupts, not even looking over his shoulder.

"You seem capable enough. We could always use men on the Normandy."

He actually laughs at, looking over his shoulder with a disbelieving look before shaking it with a chuckle. "No, thanks. I've heard of the shit the Normandy goes into."

"Damn shame," Garrus says with a chuckle. "You'd probably see more action than here. Hell, maybe even take down some slavers."

Bray stops and hums at that, Garrus knowing his background with slavers from his own time here as Archangel. It's isn't well known unless you are able to see the scarring around his neck - and be able to recognize it - but the man was once held as a slave by his own people, belonging to one of the lowest castes.

Guess that was a secret he learned about the unacknowledged second in command's past that Bray hadn't wanted out.

He spins and lifts his weapon, Garrus never flinching. "How the _fuck_ do you know that?"

"Whoa, whoa-"

"Jane," he soothes with a rumble, eyes never leaving the man. "Two and a half years ago, Pandora's. You were there, off-duty, and one of the women was servicing you." Jane snorts, understanding the insinuation, but he ignores her, nodding as he continues. "She started to undo your tunic and you flinched, punched her, but not before I caught the scar." He points to his own neck, motioning the center. "You were collared."

Four eyes narrow at him, gun never wavering, and Garrus never moves, years of staring down worse than a single assault rifle steeling his nerves. The air is tense and he is pretty sure his own mate's patience will wear out before the standstill does, but, just as he is about to move before she can, Bray speaks. "You're too observant for your own damn good, Archangel."

"That's what I tell him all the time," the redhead whispers from her side of the argument and Bray finally sighs.

Lowering his weapon, he motions to keep walking. This time, however, he walks beside them as he says, "Still don't think taking down a handful of slavers will make being on a human Alliance ship to my tastes."

"Oh, and what tastes might those be?"

"Not dying in my sleep," he deadpans and she snorts.

"Don't worry, Bray," Garrus offers with a rumble. "If a turian and a krogan and a quarian and a Geth can get along, a batarian among humans will be like just another day."

The man grumbles his wordless opinion to that as they step into Afterlife, the club just as lively, if not more, than before the Cerberus occupation. Dancers twist and strut upon their stages, lights pulse, and music pounds in deep bass that he feels more than hears. Above it all, sits Aria in her previously occupied throne that overlooks the entire throng of desperate club goers. Climbing around and into the private 'chambers' hovering above the club below, they, once again, come face to face with Omega's self-proclaimed ruler, Aria T'Loak.

Arms slung over her waist as she lounges, the woman waves away all her guards, all but Bray stepping aside, and smirks at the two of them. "Well, well, well. Look who's come back to my station. You both look like shit."

"Thanks. We're trying a new look… We're just here to pick up a krogan and shop," Jane says as she crosses her arms, hip cocked. "I think saving your damn 'station' qualifies us to spending credits stocking up since this place seems to be the only one that survived the fucking war."

Aria nods and tilts her head, as if in thought. "Yes, but every time you are on my station, you tend to bring destruction in your wake."

"They shoot first."

"So you say." Dropping her hands from her lap, she stands and walks to them. "I heard you both took quite the beating from the Reapers, yet all I see is a busted lip." She motions the scar on Jane's lip from the kick she took on Thessia.

"That's actually not a Reaper. More like Cerberus."

"Then I hope you killed the one who did it painfully."

Both Garrus and Jane look to each other about that before she shrugs and he answers. "No comment."

T'Loak actually smirks in amusement at that, nodding before heading to look out over her club. "This krogan. I suspect you're after the female that arrived a few days ago."

"Lucky guess. What do you know?" Jane drops her stance and fidgets, no doubt just as uncomfortable without armor as he currently is.

"When she found out Patriarch was dead - your doing - she then showed interest in the tech Cerberus used to control _my_ station. Shame for her, we had already removed all the barriers… So, I sent her to where we take all the trash."

There's only one place on Omega where things go that can't be burned, a place that no female krogan should go even with others, let alone _by herself_. "You sent her to _The Heap?_ " he says in disbelief, growling. "She'll walk straight into Blood Pack territory!"

Aria simply shrugs. "Sounds like you better hurry getting your supplies." Jane pats his shoulder to move out when she speaks up again. "One more thing." Snapping her fingers, she turns and motions her men. "There's something I must give you, Archangel."

Hearing movement behind him, and ready for a fight, Garrus growls and turns, hands forming a ridged hook in readiness to fight with talons and strength. Instead of a weapon or form of retaliation, as he expected, he comes face to face with a traitor he thought would never find himself on Omega ever again, boxed in by T'Loak's men.

"Sidonis?" Jane asks in confusion. "What the fuck?"

"You were on the Ascension." The man ducks his head at the accusation in Garrus' vocals, but doesn't speak as Aria interrupts.

"Seems like the refugees who couldn't work on the ship as needed were dropped off wherever the Destiny Ascension felt like. Isn't that right, Lantar?"

He nods and looks up, explaining, "They sent a lot of us to Omega when the Ascension was thrown here when the Relays weren't working properly. Others were able to be left behind on occupied planets, but I was one of the first groups."

"Fuckers," his mate curses. "I knew it! They just kicked people off their ship wherever they fucking pleased so they could have their fancy ship!"

"That doesn't explain what the hell this is," Garrus growls to the Queen. "What's your point?"

Smirking, Aria comes to them and holds out a hand that one of her men place a weapon in. "You helped me get my station back, so I am here to repay the favor."

"His life isn't yours to take."

"Of course not," she agrees as she offers the weapon.

"I won't kill him. He lives with his mistakes."

"Yes, I saw what you did to him." Smirking, she holds the weapon as she walks a few steps between the two men, twirling her hand as she speaks. "You see, the Council leaving so many people on my station wasn't something I agreed to. That's just more people to suck the life out of Omega. _One_ of those people just happen to be one of the very men that made quite a few enemies. Why, I think there is still quite a bit of animosity towards Archangel."

"I told you," he reiterates with a growl. "His is not a life you can play with."

"You have three options. I kill him, the mercs do, or you kill him."

Just as he's about to tell her where to shove her options, Jane speaks. "We'll take him."

"What?" Two turians' heads snap to her, one trilling in shock and the other growling in disbelief.

"You said it yourself, Garrus. His death will only free him of his responsibility. We can drop him off somewhere where he can actually _do_ something." She shrugs and motions a hand towards the younger turian. "He's already started cleaning up his shit with the Volus Ambassador shit."

"That was _one_ time."

Yet, does he really want the man's life? If death was the answer, wouldn't he have just saved the effort scarring him and just slit his throat? Pulled the trigger?

Does Lantar Sidonis deserve to be killed in cold blood just because he does not belong? Because he was left behind by the very governmental figures that were supposed to protect him and others like him?

Can he trust the man enough to let him on the ship, though? It's a question that could be life or death for, in this case, an innocent man.

Sighing, he turns to Aria. "We will take him on the Normandy." He glares at the man in question. "The traitor will earn his keep or I won't hesitate to kill him in the worst way possible."

"I understand, Garrus," the younger turian rumbles, head lowered below his own in a sign of submission.

Aria chuckles and hands the weapon off, the men shoving Sidonis towards Garrus and his mate. "Can't say that's what I'd have chosen or expected from you, but you both never seem to do what's expected, do you?"

"Not really." Jane looks the man over, shaking her head at his rumble of submissiveness. "Look, we'd love to chat, but we have to hurry and get weapons and armor before heading to this Heap place."

"Better move fast."

With their backs to the woman, Jane mimics the last words said with a scowl before they practically double time it to the market district. Knowing this place better than her, he motions both his mate _and_ his traitorous former ally to follow him down to a run-down home within the Kima District.

Instead of heading to the main door, he leads them down and around the building to a lower shutter that leads into the basement of the building. He's learned much from his stay here two years ago and hopes everything had gone back to normal since the Cerberus occupation. There is only one way to make sure.

Pounding on the shutter in a pattern of two, three, two, he gives the signal and waits. From within, he hears the loud coughing of the man he's come to see and rumbles in satisfaction, looking to his followers. "We'll get what we need here."

" _Psst -_ You must have the wrong place, Palaven-clan," a voice says from the intercom beside the bright red 'lock' command.

"Guess I'll have to tell Sin'Kir that I'm taking my credits elsewhere."

The pause at the code is almost deafening in its silence before, finally, the intercom comes back to life. " _Psst -_ five, six, two."

That is all that comes from the speaker, but it's all Garrus needs as he jerks his head back out of small alley. Jane raises a brow, but doesn't speak as she follows him away from the building and towards another, a warehouse with boarded up windows and broken down skycars and skytrucks blocking the path.

"This is a lot of work," his mate finally says as they start climbing over the vehicles towards a door that, despite the looks of the building, is actually active… and locked. "Why couldn't we just go to the markets again?"

"Because we wouldn't find what we need there. Not of the quality we need."

"This… this is the black market," Sidonis whispers in surprise as they approach the door and Garrus puts in the coded numbers plus the last three he knows that come with the initial pass phrase. "I never-"

"Knew I knew it?" He opens the door and looks back to the man. "I told you, in a place like this, you learn to choose your battles. The black market is too vital for a job like ours to destroy. Didn't stop me from ruining some of their business." He shrugs with a smirk. "But no one's perfect."

Stepping into the building, they walk down a long hall that leads into the sub floors and pass a krogan guard that merely warns them against trouble before opening the large metal shutters to the massive underground market. It's just as Garrus remembers and, with hopes, they'll find what they need in record time.

"Holy shit. This place is huge."

"Let's get armors and weapons and get out of here. The others can requisition everything else for the ship while we find Rym."

Sidonis sticks by their sides, Jane strategically between the two males, and Garrus does actually see the benefit in having someone to help pin his mate into safety. It might not completely ease the hatred he has for the man, but, at least, if there happens to be an instance of opening fire, either he or the other man would take the hit before his wife would.

"Ah! Nemos!" A batarian man, one eye cataracted, waves from his booth in that typical merchant ushering customers over. "Come, come! Been a long time. Have plenty of weapons."

With his wife looking to him in question, he nods and motions to go. He knows the man, Girush, and had done business with him as Archangel long before he ever had a team he had to look after. Even better, Girush's merchandise was high quality, if a bit difficult to always get him to part with, strangely enough considering the tradeoff.

"Knew you'd come back one day." Girush grins and motions them to look at his wares. "What are you looking for?"

"Weapons, shotguns, assault rifles, snipers, and armor. Heavy." His tone is clipped, getting straight to the point. "I know your brother deals in armors, so partner with him. I want this equipment now." The man nods, scratching his chin in thought, and Garrus growls as he adds, "I can always go elsewhere."

"No no. I can do that." He grins to reveal his teeth, many missing over the years. "Got one armor for turians and humans. You'll like."

"Explain."

"Terminus Armor. Sleek black and reds. Made for extreme conditions and can redirect body heat."

"Prevents thermal signatures," Jane says with a thoughtful nod. "Nice."

He nods in agreement before looking to Girush. "I need another armor for him." At his motion back, Sidonis trills in surprise, but doesn't protest. Probably in need of any protection he can get.

"I have something. Colossus." Garrus nods, that sufficient enough. It's medium armor, but he doesn't expect Sidonis to be in battle much. He can't trust him with his or, more importantly, Jane's back but, right now, he doesn't trust him alone on the Normandy even more.

"Weapons," he reminds.

Girush nods impatiently as he starts to look through the crates in his booth, making a gasp in success when he finds what he wants. Pulling weapons to the bench to examine, he motions a Mantis. "Sniper." Next is a Claymore. "Shotgun." Finally, a Vindicator. "Assault Rifle."

"I expect mods as well."

The man narrows his eyes before grumbling, heading to grab mods and lay them on the bench. Automatically, Jane begins to mod the Claymore and he hands the Vindicator to the confused Lantar before modding his own Mantis.

"You will take?"

"We will. Where are the armors?"

"I can send them here? We can size and send you off in… few hours."

"You have one," he says as he slides on a scope and raises the weapon to calibrate the sights, seeing the man nod in his peripheral.


	22. Chapter 22

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Author Note: While this doesn't explicitly describe it or insinuate anything more than the thought of sexual assault, I am advising of a possible trigger warning just in case.

-Jane-

The Heap was alive with gunfire and the screams of vorcha.

Armed and armored with the black market stock that spoke to their rebellious, dark nature after the war, the three charge into battle. Wherever she was, Rym had set the massive pile of garbage and refuse into a giant booby trap with the leftover Cerberus Rampart mechs. Their exploding, flaming bodies made short work of the dimwitted and unsuspecting vorcha storming over and through the mountains of debris.

It didn't, however, only apply to the enemy.

"Watch it!" Jane shouts as, with her heightened - _good to know the Leviathan upgrades are still there to help in the fight_ \- reflexes, she grabs Sidonis when he sets off one of the traps. Stepping back from the fiery shrapnel herself, she shoves the man to the ground to land with a heavy thump and grunt.

"Spirits," he says in shock as Garrus actually helps him back to his feet, even if it's with a deep-seeded scowl, as he looks at the burning trash before looking to her. "How'd you know?"

She doesn't stop to chit chat, to explain that she's not exactly _normal_ thanks to giant, mind controlling cuttlefish, as she jumps through the flames, ordering, "Keep moving!"

She doesn't know much about him, but this short time helps her see that it's easy to see how he was disillusioned with Archangel. In a way, he is just another man that sees them not as soldiers, but as shining symbols of battle, as something of awe that one cannot even begin to fathom. No wonder he believed Garrus to truly be the archangel of justice when he, even now, sees them in black and white lines, in just punishment for wrongdoing or stark defense for the defenseless.

He will come to learn that things are never black and white, but muddy shades of gray.

Sidonis, to his credit, nods and jumps in after her, landing with a grunt as he runs after her, head down and weapon in hand. She knows Garrus is right behind by the sound of his storming footfalls, heavy armor adding a good weight to his form.

They reach the perimeter of the field and slide into cover before the enemy can see them, Garrus taking aim. Jane turns to Lantar and motions to follow, to which he nods, and she pats her mate hard on the back to watch their backs as she and the younger man use the rubble to advance.

Rym must have holed herself up in the recycling plant up ahead and Jane can't seem to believe it's held up as good as it has. It's falling apart, long ago abandoned and left for the piling refuse to overtake it like stinking, rotting vines slowly suffocating the life from it.

Whatever defenses she laid out aren't going to hold much longer. There are no more mechs ahead, at least by Jane's observation of storming vorcha not currently exploding into flames, and there only saving grace is that the vorcha greatly outnumber the four krogan.

Still, there are _far_ too many krogan for her liking. Especially with the biggest currently trying to bash the door of the plant down.

"Sidonis," she says as she flares blue. "Focus on the krogan and anything trying to break down that door."

He merely nods and waits for her cue, which comes in the form of a Reave into the closest krogan to drain it's natural protection. In unison with her own attack, a loud sniper shot echoes as the krogan falls, eye blown out by the bullet, and Lantar, only with a second of surprise, begins to fire on the next.

Leader krogan is unphased by their assault, charging the door with roars, and it's none too encouraging as she charges forward, ducking under a krogan fist before putting the Claymore to his neck and pulling the trigger in a heavy flood of orange blood and flesh. Vorcha close in on her and she sends them flying before rapid gunfire keeps them down.

_Impressive, Sidonis._

_**You shouldn't let him watch your back.** _

Ignoring the disapproval, she punches a vorcha down before blasting its head in. The second to last krogan turns on her from his attempt to flush out Sidonis and roars as he charges. She dodges quickly with a roll, giving the shot to Lantar to open fire to draw the attention back to him, opening the kogan's front to Garrus' shot.

That shot shatters the forehead plating and the krogan's head snaps back from the force before falling with a thunderous crash. That leaves only the massive leader and vorcha stranglers, one of which explodes just beyond her peripheral from a shot to the pressurized canister on his back.

"Move up!"

Turning vorcha against its own helps to both clear the field all the faster, but also drains Jane's own reserves as they push forward, climbing the refuse and jagged metal jutting from the rancid, indistinguishable mush of rotting trash that released toxic stench with each step and clung to their new armors. She slips and her hand sinks into the practical soup of refuse when she tries to catch herself, leaving Sidonis to cover her as Garrus rushes to pull her up. She nods a quick thanks before raising her weapon again as she jumps down onto somewhat solid ground just before the building and realizes the worst thing that could happen in this fight.

The doors to the building are thrown aside and the assault leader is gone.

"Shit! Cover me!" Shockwaving a pyro before he can even raise his flamethrower, Jane Charges into the group rushing inside, sending them flying in all directions. She doesn't stop, knowing she can both outrun them, the two males at her back most likely killing them before they will even be back on their feet.

The scattered pieces of armor and destroyed front office aren't a good sign as she rushes forward, jumping out of the room and into the sorting line of the plant. Climbing up onto a machine, she scans the floor and quickly focuses on movement.

"Hey, you ugly fuck!" She doesn't wait for the answer or acknowledgment as she starts to run over the tops of the machines, jumping from one sorting line to the other as she bolts for the opposite end of the factory floor. She has only so long before the worst happens, before she fails her mission to Wrex.

Huddled in the corner, the two forms struggle, one bigger than the other and both distinctively krogan. Eyes don't see the extent of the assault, how far into the sexual abuse the male has forced Rym, because Jane doesn't hesitate, jumping off her perch to his back, landing on his hump.

That, at least, gets his attention - as does her punching into his neck - and he tries to thrash back and forth to dislodge her as he roars in anger. His hands try to grab at her, one wrapping around her ankle, and she sinks her teeth into his neck, holding on with teeth and hands. If he gets her off, he'll have a good chunk of hide missing to remind him of the tiny human woman.

True to her suspicions, the krogan doesn't fear her flat teeth and pulls her from his back, throwing her as if she were weightless. She goes flying, landing on the ground with a heavy thump and still sliding until she hits one of the machines.

"Fuck," she curses as pain radiates up her back and pounds in her skull, almost not registering the loud gunfire. She also doesn't see the shot Garrus takes to wound the krogan, hitting him in the only weak spot from the back, his spine.

It downs the beast and, just when she hears their rushing to get a better angle, the form in the shadows moves, a roar as the smaller krogan charges her attacker. Krogan fall with a thunderous crash as green plates collide with maroon, Rym bellowing howls of rage as she slams her fist into the man's face and neck.

The male is not out, however, as he headbutts her off, shoving her from him and rolling. Rym scrambles back along the floor as he towers over her, stalking to pin her in the wall, and Jane climbs to her feet, ready to charge again.

She doesn't get the chance when a loud blast fills and bounces off the walls of the plant. At first, she thinks it was Garrus firing on the krogan's spine again, but her eyes snap to Rym, Jane's own Claymore in her hands and smoking from the blast.

Rym wasn't running from her attacker, she was crawling to a weapon. _And_ _ **that's**_ _why I love krogan._

_**Pretty sure you love turians.** _

She snorts softly and ignores the pain in her back as she slowly heads for Rym. "Urdnot Rym. I'm-"

"I know who you are, Commander Shepard." the female says as she stumbles at first, but stands. When she steps into the light, Jane finally gets a good look at her and is surprised at what she sees.

Jane had once seen a female krogan without any armor or robes, so the differences jump out at her easily as if she had sketched the woman just yesterday. Just like with all krogan, the only true difference between males and females are the sizes of their forehead plates and wider waist, but there is something distinct that sets the green plated female apart.

She's young, her head crest not completely fused together yet. Hell, if Grunt weren't tank born, she'd expect they were of similar ages.

At least, Jane can safely say, the woman's clothes may be tattered, but are intact where it counts. Not that it would help the residual feeling of violation. Jane knows well enough.

"You're here because of Wrex." Rym comes to her and holds out the weapon to its rightful owner. "You want to take me back to Tuchanka."

"Actually," she says as the others approach, carrying the woman's obviously ripped off armor, a green that matches her plates. "He just said to get you off Omega. You don't have to go back to Omega."

"You're free to remain on the Normandy," Garrus adds. "With how you rigged those mechs, we could use your tech skills."

"I'm not out here to be a warrior. That armor was to hide."

"Then, if you'll wait on the Normandy while we finish a mission, we can set you up with one of the best techs in this galaxy. A quarian that, well, owes us a _huge_ favor." _We_ _ **did**_ _get her Rannoch back, after all._ "I bet what she can teach you is a hell of a lot better than whatever Patriarch had. Hell, you might change your mind about hanging around once you find out we have an AI that needs work."

Rym thinks on it, turning her head to examine Jane with a single eye that dilates and constricts in thought. "Let me use the Normandy's systems to access the extranet for blueprints for colonization equipment. Tuchanka or public terminals don't have that kind of access."

"Deal."

* * *

 

She finds Rym later that day in the AI Core, reading over the diagnostics in curiosity. "Understand it?"

The krogan turns a single amber eye towards her and nods slightly. "She's missing programing."

"How can you tell? Well, nevermind. I have no clue how to tell that so it wouldn't make a damn bit of sense anyways." Rym chuckles and nods, looking back at the terminal to the core. "How did you get into tech, anyways?"

"I was infertile. There was nothing to do besides defend the pups and fertile females from attack. When there wasn't an attack, I worked on the turret systems, slowly learned how they worked." Hands still as she closes the terminal and turns completely. "From there, I went to working on Omni-Tools from the visiting males." She chuckles. "Many weren't too happy in the beginning, but when I got better, they'd have me repair them instead of having to from someone outside the clans."

"And you want to use that skill to better your people."

Rym sighs and nods, looking to the ground. "Wrex wants to rebuild, but we can't do that, not completely, without finding a way to efficiently purify water or grow and store food." She smirks and looks up. "And I want to be able to track the Maws instead of just expect them to attack at any time. If we can track and predict their movements, we can actually _survive_ on Tuchanka instead of live there."

"What did Wrex say when you told him this?"

"He told me to be careful. He also told me that finding Hyll was fruitless." Rym sighs and leans against the railing with her hip, the metal creaking. "I guess he was right."

"What did Hyll have that you went to Omega, of all places, for?"

"It was said that he had the data from the Salarians on the Shroud. If that was real, then image what we could build for the krogan with the data of the _only_ piece of technology that managed to stabilize the atmosphere after nuclear war. And who knows what else they had."

"Seems like a huge feat. What happens when they want to use what you find for weapons?"

"I'll die before they use my work for war," she growls and tightens her fists. "I refuse to let the krogan use my efforts to better our lives for a stupid fucking war." Sighing, she looks to Jane. "I don't think Wrex or Bakara would openly call for war. Not now."

Jane nods, not sure she wants to tell the woman that it's not Bakara or Wrex she worries about, but the others or possible leaders that will take their place in centuries when they are gone. Instead, she looks around the Core and offers a friendly quirk of her lips. "I'm glad you're settling in. We'll be sure to requisition some krogan things if you decide you want to stick with our dysfunctional little family."


	23. Chapter 23

-Jane-

She'll admit it, her back hurts like a krogan swing danced on her spine, but like hell she's going to say anything to her mate. That's ammunition she doesn't need to hand over to him without at least some sort of attempt to hide it. Plus, they don't really have a ship doctor to take a look at it anyways, so all he'd so getting after her would be to waste some of the 'precious' recycled Normandy air.

So, instead of fess up to Garrus and admit that she took quite the beating being thrown like a frisbee, she runs away down to the Cargo Bay to oversee the last minute loading of supplies they'll need. Traynor played part in ensuring they have the adequate supplies to feed and house the crew they both have and hope to build along the way while Vega worked on getting heat sinks, weapons and armor licenses for requisition, and Cortez stocked up on whatever he needs to maintain their only shuttle. Whatever else is in the crates being piled into the Bay is just something she assumes they need that she hasn't thought of yet.

 _Sure hope someone thought of medical supplies_ , she thinks as she motions the next crate to be loading up the ramp. Once they get to civilized territory, finding a medical doctor for the MedBay will be the _first_ thing on her to-do list. _Can't believe I hadn't thought of it before, but at least the worst we've sustained was a few bumps and bruises._

Rubbing her back through the gap in her armor, she hisses a bit at what has to be a bruise she definitely won't be able to hide and sighs out a curse at the ass ripping she's definitely going to get later. "Well, fuck me," she says as she runs her head through her hair.

"And here I thought Archangel was doing that already," a voice full of humor responds back and she looks up to see four eyes and a teasing grin.

"Bray? What the hell are you doing here?" She lifts a brow and crosses her arms. "Aria sending you to hurry our asses up?"

"Aria didn't send me." At Jane's questionable look, he explains with a motion to the ship. "Your offer still stand?"

"Just what the hell does Aria want with the batarians?"

"Not a damn thing." He shrugs and shoulders his heavy bag.

"So you're telling me she just let you go? What happened to making you do all the work for her?"

He chuckles. "She knows this is about me. Said I need to 'get my shit straight'."

"And you think you'll be able to by killing pirates?"

"They aren't pirates," he says with a stern look and she lifts a brow, not sure how he knows more than she does about this mission. _Probably because he's guessing where I haven't even read the debrief report because I was busy with finding Rym._

"You're expecting slavers?" _Because what are batarians attacking humans if they aren't pirates or slavers?_ The man nods and she taps her fingers on her armor, thinking. "And if it isn't the Hegemony? You won't get your revenge."

"Then I'll be disappointed, but I doubt it's any of the slaver ships in Aria's fleet."

Jane snorts and motions the station. "I thought you wouldn't give a shit about slaving living here on Omega, working for Aria, no less."

"I don't give a shit about the slaves, this is for me. I want to watch every last trace of the Hegemony burn." When she gives him a questioning look, Bray sighs and grumbles to himself before he says, "If you agree, I'll set the Normandy up with a requisitions system."

"We have one."

"A _special_ one." That gets her attention and she lifts a brow high. "Harrot owes Aria a favor. And I am willing to bet the less she sees of you and Archangel in the 'Markets', the better."

"I didn't think she would care."

"Normally? No, but you two have a tendency to add a whole new crater in the station whenever you dock. Now… Do we have a deal?"

"How soon can you get him here?"

"Within a few minutes."

"Do it," she says as she motions to get aboard. "Find a bunk in the crew quarters."

He snorts. "Doubt the Alliance crew would appreciate a batarian sleeping with them."

Shrugging, she takes an offered datapad and signs off on the delivery of equipment. "Then find somewhere to bunk. I'll be down to check up on you and get a debrief of your specialization and skill set."

"Hey, Lola!" James comes running, not even giving Bray a glance as he nearly skids to a stop. "You gotta get up to the Mess!"

She sighs and hands the pad to one of the crew working on loading the supplies, following him as he rushes her towards the lift. "What now?"

"Scars and that new guy, Sidonis, are going at it. Or, well, Scars looks like he's about to kill the poor bastard."

He fidgets in that way that he tends to do as he gets amped up for a fight and she sighs, rubbing her temple. "What about?"

"Don't know, but it's got Scars _pissed_."

"Sidonis tends to do that," she simply says as the doors slide open and she rushes out to the sound of what she thinks are pots and pans going flying across the Mess and her mate's deep, threatening growls over Lantar's words.

"I promise you, Garrus, I won't say a word!"

"I intend to make sure of that."

"Enough!" She is shouting before even rounding the corner, seeing her own husband pinning the younger turian in the corner as the crew watches on, unable to calm the massive turian. "What the _fuck_ is going on here?!"

"It was my fault, Shepard," Traynor pipes up from the edge of the crowd, holding the twins tightly in her arms. "I came to let them see daddy."

"And, now, Sidonis knows. I can't risk him putting our children in danger," Garrus growls and pulls a combat knife from his new, sleek black armor. "You'll get a quicker end than you deserve."

Lantar growls in defense, taking a stance to at least fight, and Jane's respect for the man goes up. Where she first met him, he looked just about ready to take a dive if he had the courage, but now? Now he's willing to fight for his life, even if it meant only delaying, and possibly enduring quite a bit of pain before, his end.

He's come far from the beginning and, if circumstances of her own position where different, she can see all the fucking wrong turns in the man's life, feel sympathy for them. It's why she storms through the parted crowd and stands between them both, stern glare staring her mate down.

"Jane, _move_ ," he snaps with a gravelly snarl as his hand flexes around the blade.

"No. Now move aside while I protect our family."

"Garrus." Knowing she can be the only one to do this, she reaches up and covers his hand around the knife. "We're bringing on a lot of new people and we can only expect their loyalty through _gaining_ it. Lantar is no different."

"I only give my trust once."

"Fucking Christ," she whispers as she rubs her head, her pulse pounding from the bash against the factory equipment. Sighing, she looks between the men before deciding the best option given the situation. Neither are bound to like it, but it leaves them with one less man and, well, with Sidonis keeping his life. "Then we keep him aboard."

"What?" They both say, one in anger and the other in surprise.

Garrus glares at the former member of Archangel and glares, "You can't be serious."

"Why not? He can't really send a comm out without us knowing since any communications has to go through the Comm Room and it's not like Traynor will just let him slip in to use the vidcall."

"And what about when we dock?"

"Well, I doubt he'd be stupid enough to piss you off knowing you would just hunt him down again."

"I don't really have enough mandibles left, anyways," Sidonis says lightly, trying to remind her mate that he still remembers very well what happens when he betrays trust. "Look, I didn't mean to find out about them, but I swear on my life to keep it a secret."

"Your life means nothing to me, as do your promises."

Jane glares at her mate and twists their hands to disarm her mate, knowing he'd easily fight her if he wanted and thankful of that little sign of him starting to come along to her idea. "Garrus, think about it. You trusted him on the field to watch our backs already. I'm not asking to forget what he did, just to give him the chance to regain a place among us." A low growl hums deep down in Garrus' throat as he looks between her and the other man. "Jesus Christ, I'm not asking you to fuck him, Garrus."

"Stop trying to convince me," her mate interrupts, taking his weapon back and replacing it in its sheath. He stares her down for a moment before turning away with a huff, his irritation evident, but cooling for he wouldn't have given in otherwise.

Doesn't stop him from hauling the twins from Traynor's hands and storming to the lift, though. She knows the conversation isn't over until he says it is, but she can't question her gut instincts, not after they've gotten her this far. Those instincts tell her that Lantar Sidonis is, compared to anyone else they pick up, the _last_ to fuck up because he knows Garrus will be looking for any reason to put a bullet between the eyes.

Sighing, she looks to the others and motions them to disperse. "Dismissed, all of you. Find something to look busy."

Murmurs pass between the new crew and old faces, probably about how this is just normal drama for the Normandy, but she doesn't care. She knows there will be ways to show them how to overlook the occasional outburst.

Besides, if they don't already expect there to be outbursts of anger and discord when stuck in a tin can in the middle of space with the same people for extended periods of time, then they obviously have never been on a ship before. Irritation among the crew is just normal for this kind of situation since any species had begun travelling through the dark expanses of space.

"Well," Bray says with a chuckle as he leans against the divider wall between the two Mess tables. "That was quite the show. That happen often?"

"You have no idea," she deadpans as she picks up a pot and tosses it in the sink. "And that 'dismissed' applies to you too, just so you know."

He shrugs and grabs his bag before heading off. Something tells Jane that the man will want privacy of his own after his remark about sharing bunk space with Alliance crew and she doesn't really care, just knows it won't really be all that easy to find. _Where there's a will, there's a way, though, and God knows we don't give two shits about regulation living arrangements since the Collectors._

Shamelessly wanting to buy herself some time, she heads to the MedBay for something, anything, that can help her with her back ache. With hope, his time alone with their children will help to calm him in a way she's sure a fight between them won't be able to accomplish. Not that she doesn't understand and empathize with his anger, but she sees no other way, besides outright killing the guy, to give Garrus the security he needs while also making sure they don't lose a man they can use on the field.

When she steps into the room, she is surprised to find the very man at the head of this dilemma going over the stocking files for the MedBay. At the sound of the doors sliding open, Sidonis jumps and looks up, trilling as he sets the datapad down. "Shepard. I was just-"

"Are you a medic?" She lifts a brow, noticing how he's already started removing and setting up some kind of organization with the supplies.

Lantar nods and motions the Bay. "I'm not a doctor, but I can tend to wounds in the field and minor ailments here on the ship. I'd still say we should find a proper doctor, though."

"Yeah, I agree," she responds with a chuckle as she approaches the supplies to look for painkillers. "Guess we overlooked that minor detail when we were in a hurry to get prepped for our mission. Getting Rym wasn't even on our to-do list until a friend all but pleaded to us to get her out of there. Set us back even more."

He nods in understanding and motions the bottle in her hand with a rumble. "Are you feeling pain from that fall you had back there?"

She snorts at 'fall' and shrugs, ignoring the slight tinge of pain in her sore back. "Yeah, you could call it that."

"Saying 'tossing' seemed a bit uncalled for," he remarks with a rumble of amusement and she chuckles, nodding in agreement.

"I _did_ get tossed like a heavily armed salad."

He flicks his half gone mandibles and motions the bottle. "Want me to take a look at your injury?"

Now that is something she has to consider. What sort of hell would be unleashed if Garrus walked in? Not that he'd suspect anything untoward afoot, but she's pretty sure that he'd be caught dead before he entrusted Sidonis with an injured mate.

Still, wouldn't it be better if she had her wounds looked at now instead of later?

Shrugging, she starts to remove her chest plate. "I hit my head, too, but seeing as how I haven't lost consciousness, I doubt it's anything more serious than a concussion."

"You're probably right," he agrees as he helps set her upper body armor aside, letting her unzip and push her undersuit from her arms and torso. "I'll check after I - wow… I'd say you hit your back pretty damn hard."

"Bruised up, ain't I?" She chuckles and tries to look over her shoulder to see him nod with a hum.

"A hematoma is more accurate." She sees the light of his Omni-Tool reflected in the metal cabinet before her as he uses it to examine her back. "No spinal damage, which is _really_ surprising-"

"Cerberus upgrades… Long story."

Seeing when not to push, he simply nods and closes his Tool as he heads to a Medigel dispenser in one of the open crates. "Let me medigel it and take a look at your head. Not much we can really do for the bruising besides rest."

Her muscles twitch at the slight pain of his touch, but soon the soothing chill of the gel eases the pain. She pulls up her suit when he rounds her with his Tool open again, zipping it up as he types a command for a light.

Having a bright light shined into her eyes isn't really the best remedy she could think of for her headache, but she doesn't question the 'medic' as he hums in thought and, finally, frees her from the blinding hell light. Whatever he finds must be enough to give him his answer as he grabs the bottle she had set down and, instead, hands her a different medication.

"Here," he says as he hands it over. "Take these for pain from either your head or back and try to rest at least until the mission. You have a concussion, but it isn't something that won't go away if you take it easy."

She opens the bottle and takes two pills, dry, as she shrugs. "I'll do my best." Heading out of the MedBay, she stops. "Oh, and about Garrus-"

"It's alright, Shepard." He sighs and frowns with a sad rumble. "I understood long ago that the Archangel we thought he was and the _real_ Archangel were two entirely different people. But… I guess I wasn't what my friends thought either…"

"Love makes us do stupid shit."

She catches just a glimpse of his shocked expression, barely hears his trill of surprise that she remembered his words, and even she wonders why, when presented with a man that had obviously been so enamored with her mate as to sacrifice ten good people, she doesn't feel that possessiveness she usually does. Perhaps, she realizes, there is not only nothing romantic between them, but absolute _hate_ where polite aloofness exists from every other attempt of another for his attentions.

Perhaps, that part of her that respects his reasoning feels that, even someone who made such a misguided decision as Sidonis, he doesn't deserve to be treated like he was the only one who would be blinded by affection and love. Hell, she and Garrus both made no excuses for many of the decisions _they_ made that were solely based off the wellbeing of the other.


	24. Chapter 24

-Garrus-

_"_ _Let's get this straight, Sidonis. I don't like you, I will_ _**never** _ _like you. You can bet at the first sign of betrayal, I won't hesitate to kill you… painfully."_

_The other man hums and nods, saying, "Look, Garrus, I'm not stupid. I know that if anything happens, I'm the first one that will be blamed. I aim to prove that you're wrong, that you can trust and depend on me."_

_Garrus growls with an unconvinced mandible jerk. "I doubt that. Why Jane trusts you to watch her back, I will never know, but know that, whatever you do, you're in my scope. One twitch of my finger and I won't have to worry about you."_

_Obviously filled with a misplaced courage, Lantar looks straight into Garrus' eyes and squares his shoulders. "You may come to find I'm the last person to piss you off on this ship."_

_They are alone in the Mess, Garrus cornering the younger turian as he was in the fridge for something to replenish the energy lost during the fight. Water in hand, he at first didn't expect to be pinned by the bigger presence of the towering Spectre, but he soon recovered to plead his case for staying aboard the Normandy and, more importantly, for staying_ _**alive** _ _._

_True, he still showed the ability to follow directions and work with a group on the field that he had shown when he once belonged in Archangel's team, but his actions were always tainted with his previous betrayal. Garrus' attentions were divided between covering the battlefield and watching for any sign of failure on Sidonis' part. There was just too much at risk to lose if the man didn't match their pace in a fight._

_Courage in the face of danger or not, Garrus knew Sidonis was still torn between what he felt about all that happened. Unlike himself, who was able to look in the mirror and both acknowledge the failure and move past it, Lantar was still cursing himself over his decisions, over the loss for an unrequited admiration._

_That guilt was a deadly thing on the field, even if it was something he had always wanted to make sure the younger man remembered, carried with him no matter how much he grew to accept it. That acceptance, it seemed, was still far behind, trying to build itself up even in the face of the one that he gave everything for only to receive nothing but hate and rejection._

_"_ _Garrus," Lantar begins with a frown and soft trill. "I know you don't think of me-"_

_"_ _Let's go see daddy!" A voice calls out from around the elevator and Garrus growls deep at one of possibly the last things he ever wanted Sidonis to be included in, at one of the reasons he hesitated to ever allow the man aboard despite the fact that he didn't want to outright kill him._ _**I'm starting to question that decision right about now…** _

_As Traynor and James step around the corner with babies in hand, Cassia squeals and babbles in Vega's hands as she reaches out for her father across the Mess. A single tiny hand waves in the air, but that sight is all that's needed to be able to see the five fingers and he hears the other turian gasp with a shocked trill._

_"_ _Is that-"_

_He can't finish his stunned question as Garrus' instincts kick in, his protective instincts as a father in the face of danger screaming to_ _**act** _ _, and he spins, swinging at the man. His gauntleted fist connects with Lantar's midsection, directly between the two pieces of his armor, and he's satisfied with the resulting, pained grunt._

_Sidonis recovers quick, his life on Omega running from attackers and danger paying off, and jumps back with wide eyes with chirps and a lowered stance of submission. Hands up in passive surrender, he starts to make empty promises as he rounds the counter to put it between the two. "Easy, Garrus. I didn't see anything, I swear."_

**_Lies, all lies_ ** **,** _he thinks with a low, threatening growl as he shoves slams his fists on the counter and throws all the cooking supplies atop it flying across the Mess._

_"_ _I promise you, Garrus, I won't say a word!"_

**_Stop lying to me! That's all you ever do,_ ** _he rages inside as he lowers his voice with a withering growl and show of teeth, jumping the counter to pin Sidonis in the corner against the fridge. "I intend to make sure of that."_

That was when his mate, Jane, rushed in to break the two apart, _defend_ Sidonis. True, he saw some logic in her words, but how could she remain so calm when facing the thought of the man being so close to their defenseless children? He had already proven once before that he doesn't care about the lives of others when facing death himself, so why should they ever give him the chance to endanger their precious children?

It's why he had to get away, to get up to the Loft to both get the twins into safety as well as find some space to work out the stress of being pulled back from Sidonis. Kill him? Maybe not, but he sure as hell wanted to give a hint into what would happen if the man ever _thought_ of betraying them, of biting the hand that feeds, as humans say.

Setting the babies onto the bed and handing them their individual toys - Cassia her cloth booklet and Damocles his stuffed varren - Garrus starts to pace without removing his armor, striking fists into the air with growling grunts. It's bad enough Jane insists on allowing Sidonis onto ground missions and on the Normandy in the first place, but to allow him to stay now that he knows their biggest secret?

If Garrus had it his way, he would do more than 'hold him hostage' aboard the Normandy, he'd have put the fear of Archangel into him. As it is now, there is nothing but promises of retribution _after_ the truth gets out. That, in his eyes, just won't work.

 _Where has all this trust from her come from? If anything, she should be more reserved now that people no longer need us to save the galaxy,_ he thinks as he swipes talons through the empty air, his children watching with curious chirps and following eyes.

Where the war, and its aftermath, has left him bitter and angry, it seems like his wife has taken the loss to heart and, he is concerned to say, seems to wear that as a weight that makes her more reckless with her own and their children's safety. After all, she's already pulled on _two_ new crew members without ordering the current crew to remain silent of the twins until trust and silence is gained.

He isn't sure how to make her see that she is wrong, that nothing good will come from trusting in those that owe them nothing or have proven already to not be worth the effort.

When the swish of the doors opening fills the Loft, he spins in his place and glares his mate down, growling. He storms towards her and, to her credit, she braces and stares him down in defiance. "What the hell were you thinking? You should have let me-"

"Let you what?" she interrupts. " _Kill_ him?" Jane raises a brow and crosses her arms, creating a wall between her and the raging turian. "You said it yourself, his life means more than his death. If you wanted him dead, you'd have done it on Omega and save us the time."

"That doesn't mean he deserved to be coddled."

" _Excuse_ me?" A deep scowl crosses her features as she flares blue. "You think I'm fucking playing favorites _with the man that almost got you killed?!"_ She shoves him and Garrus growls, stepping into her space and pinning her against the fish tank with his body, but she doesn't falter, still shouting. "I seem to be the only one fucking _thinking_ about the fact that we _need_ people on our side!"

"And you're willing to sacrifice our children's safety for it!" He shouts back at her, earning him a punch to the good mandible that jerks his head and gives her the chance to shove him away.

"How _dare_ you, you fucking piece of shit. I _am_ thinking about them! Why do you think I'm trying to keep him aboard?!" She attempts another punch that he pins to his side with his arm, blocking a kick with his foot. "What do you think will happen if we piss him off? He'll go straight to the media! 'Do I not destroy my enemies by making them my friends?'. Think about it, dammit!"

He growls as he jabs her in the midsection and uses her reaction to pin her to the tank with and arm against her neck. "He has two faces, Jane. You cannot trust him."

"I," she says before clearing her throat to try again. "I see him differently." A foot kicks down on his spur and, even though it's armored against breakage, it still hurts enough to make him jerk and hold release. She uses that to duck under his arm and kick his knee. "He could have let me get my ass blown to hell out there by sticking back, but he was putting himself in danger to watch my back just like anyone else. Whatever he was before, now is what I'm defending, even if it pisses Archangel off."

Grunting, he reaches back and grabs her leg, yanking her footing out from under her. He hears her hiss and figures she's still sore from being thrown off the krogan, but it doesn't stop him from jumping over her and pinning her hands to snarl down at her. "I am the only one who knows what he's done, the reason he wears those scars. He cannot be trusted, Jane. Imprison him on this ship if you want, but I will _always_ be watching him, waiting for my chance."

His mate sighs and looks him over, glaring up at him with a fire in her deep green eyes. "You seriously think he would do anything to piss off the one he's enamored with? Fuck, he did all that shit a year ago to _save_ you."

"Stop saying that."

"It's true! The fuck _loves_ you, you asshole!" She shakes her head and tests his hold on her arms, but he doesn't budge. "He fucked up because he didn't know what else to do, but we've fucked shit up, sacrificed people for each other. Hell, we told each other we'd give up the galaxy for each other."

Garrus, hating the truth of some attachment that he never wanted nor encouraged, snarls and shakes his head. "He had no right-"

"Of course he didn't, and I don't ask you to forgive him. The exact opposite. The bastard fucked up, he will always know that with every look in the damn mirror, but that doesn't mean _you_ have to cut off the rest of the damn things for something he hasn't done."

"Jane," he reiterates. "If he does it, it will be too late to do anything. Any punishment will not stop the public from targeting them."

"Trust me. Please, Garrus. If you can't trust him, then trust in my judgment."

"Your judgment has shifted… You are more lenient than you should be-" He's cut off with her hard headbutt into his nose and he snarls in pain, feeling blood starting to trail down to his mouth.

"How fucking dare you!" She screams, jerking against his hands as she flares a bright, burning blue. "You-"

Whatever vulgarity she is about to call him dies on her lips when they hear a loud cooing from the bed. Both fall silent and lax as they look over to the two babies they, so far, had completely forgotten were guests to their little shouting and combat match. When they feel their eyes, Cassia grins and claps her hands as Damocles starts to crawl to the edge of the bed.

Garrus trills in shocked worry as he jumps up - Jane gasping and scrambling up right behind - running to the bed to catch him just as he reaches the edge of the mattress. "Whoa… Hold up, little one," he says with a concerned rumble, looking to his mate as she sits beside their daughter and pulls her close.

A silent conversation moves between them both and each answers with a nod in agreement, he purring softly as she smiles softly. Trapped in their argument, they had nearly faced disaster by their own neglect, and, in trying to protect his family from outside dangers, he and Jane had almost become one to their children themselves.

He sits and helps their son stand on his thighs, gently holding his hands to help him balance as he purrs and chirps. He feels Jane shift Cassia in her lap, grabbing the toy book to read for the hundredth time - the young infant always entertained by the colors and animals as if it were the first time every time - and smiles at the excited coo from their daughter as she grabs at the pages.

"I'm sorry, Garrus," she says as she reaches over for his hand when he lets Damocles sit down and he takes it, linking their fingers. "I shouldn't have made the decisions I did without at least coming to an agreement with you before."

"You did what you think is best." He sighs and nuzzles their son's cheek. "I don't agree with you on Sidonis being as innocent as you believe, but I am willing to give him a chance to show me if he has changed. He will never be able to live down what he did, but I've already punished him for it…"

Isn't what he had done, the scarring Sidonis now wears on his face just as Garrus does, the punishment the man had earned? Did that not give the man as clean a slate that he deserved? Had it not been Garrus that said death was not his to give the man after he had already punished him for the crime? Even though Lantar Sidonis wear the cost of his betrayal to his own, would that really be a precursor to how he would be or is it simply a reminder to the man of what he once was?

Coming to a decision that he must, at least, follow his wife's direction and believe in whatever she sees in the man, he squeezes her hand. "I trust you, Jane. I will be forever watching, but I will remain… civil until he proves untrustworthy."

She chuckles at his near reluctance to admit to backing down and smiles. "That's all I ask. And trust me, the moment he fucks up, you'll be the first to rip him a new asshole… Although, he might like that."

Her teasing smirk makes him flick his mandibles in exasperation. "Would you quit reminding me about that?"

"What? I think you should be flattered that the guy _likes_ you. It's a compliment when someone wants to fuck you."

"You would know. Nearly everyone on the ship now and before has had some kind of admiration for you," he responds with a hum, letting Damocles stand on his knees again.

Jane snorts and points out a picture of some strange animal. "Cat. Can you say 'cat'?" When Cassia makes a drawn out babble, his wife chuckles and says, "I seem to think they liked my eloquence."

"Or lack thereof." When that gets him a jab in the ribs, he chuckles and leans over to kiss her. "I love you, Jane."

"I love you too, you shit," she says with a warm smile and press of their foreheads together.


	25. Chapter 25

-Garrus-

Garrus stands in the cockpit as the Normandy closes in on the Relay. Its massive orb of energy pulses the closer the get and the feeling of static within the air fills surrounds him just as its light grows, enveloping them in preparation to send them across the galaxy.

"Horsehead, Joker," his wife says as she walks up the ramp into the cockpit, handing Garrus a datapad before crossing her arm across her armored chest. "Let's see what we can find."

As the pilot nods, Garrus glances over the debrief of what they know of the situation. The Alliance was reporting a ship going silent after it last reported in after traversing through the Relay into the Horsehead Nebula. So far, refugee ships were merely being attacked and their supplies stolen when they passed through, but an entire vessel going silent was means for concern.

It was all starting to look like, if it was connected - which it of course is, the batarians were moving from stealing supplies and aid to kidnapping or outright killing people. He isn't sure which is worse, though he wouldn't say as he didn't expect it, Bray's insistence of the fact of slavery aside.

"What are you planning?" he asks his wife as he turns off the datapad and lays it on one of the empty consoles. "We can't take the entire remainder of the Hegemony with one ship."

She nods and taps her fingers on her armor. "That's where I'm willing to take brainstorming ideas."

"We _do_ have the fastest ship, you know," Joker says pointedly, as if offended. "If we've outrun Reapers, we can definitely outrun batarians."

"Joker," he wife admonishes with a pointed look. "That-"

"Will actually be what we need." When she looks over to him in surprise, he nods and motions the pilot. "Unless Joker's gotten slow on his time off, we can outrun the batarian ships easily." The pilot grumbles and rolls his eyes at that, Jane's look making the turian shrug. "And we have a massive Thanix that's taken down Reapers and Collectors that would cut through batarian ships in case that doesn't work."

"Speed and advanced weaponry don't mean we can take on a fleet, or whatever portion of it is responsible here."

"No, but we can actually use this ship for what it's built for, _reconnaissance."_ At her raised brows of question, he walks to the navigations systems and sets a course for the next system. "Ships don't just disappear, they either crash, dock, move systems, or are left to drift. Seeing as how the Alliance doesn't have any further Relay activity for this missing ship, it's still in this cluster. That leaves four star systems it could be in."

She thinks that over a moment before nodding. "I doubt it's in Pax, too risky. No way they'd leave a massive transport vessel in the middle of the Hub system. There has to be a way they're luring ships out of the main star system and off course."

"A distress beacon," Garrus says with a hum before looking to the pilot. "Joker, before you jump out of Pax, open up our comm channels. Try anything civilian vessels would have access to."

All go quiet as Joker opens the channels to everything and anything that might come through, sitting back in his seat to listen. He can see Jane fighting to listen, her brows drawn down as she stares off into the stars, in his peripheral as mandibles twitch in concentration until he hears the faintest of static.

"Can you clean that up? Find its source?" Jane steps closer to the pilot's seat and leans on it, as if getting closer will help clear up the signal.

She gets an exasperated look from Joker as he wiggles the seat to get her off, one that she doesn't really see or recognize as what it is, and she gets up to walk to the co-pilot's station. Garrus knows what she's thinking at that moment from both the look in her eyes and the very thought running through his own mind, _if only EDI was at full capacity._

"Wait a minute," Jane nearly whispers as she looks back to Joker. "Rym might be able to help."

"Wait, wait, wait… You're going to let a _krogan_ up in my cockpit?" When he gets looks from them both, he holds hands up with a shrug. "What? It's already cramped enough as it is with you two in full armor."

Garrus looks to his mate, knowing it isn't so much her aim to have the girl clear up and boost the signal so much as it's to use the bits of pieces of someone who _can_ , even with their current state of disrepair. Mentioning EDI directly, however, around Joker would only worsen his already shaky state - and he can't act like the entire ship doesn't see the way he runs himself ragged every shift, even sleeping up here in the cockpit - so Garrus keeps quiet and simply nods in agreement when green eyes look over for his opinion. If part of EDI's programming capable of decrypting this distorted signal is still inside the ship, then Rym will find it.

Stepping to her, he lays a hand on her shoulder, speaking one thing with his eyes as he says, "Let's not upset our poor pilot here with _another_ visitor to his sanctuary. I'll see what Rym can do from the Core." Joker snorts as Jane nods and motions with her head towards the CIC in silent 'go, and hurry'.

Heading back to the lift, Garrus hits the command for the Crew Deck where he knows the krogan woman is probably _still_ hump deep in the AI Core. Her curiosity is, though in a different direction, so similar to Grunt's was when he was aboard and directly out of his tank. True, he was more focused on battles and his own capabilities for destruction while Rym spends all her energy and time on learning and trying to repair their systems.

"Rym," he says as he steps into the Core, looking around for her only to find her on her hands and knees digging into the systems. "What are you doing?"

A grunt comes from where she has her head buried in wires and cords, her voice echoing in the small chamber she's made. "I'm replacing fried hardware. It might help the AI to come back on in at least some capacity."

He walks to her and offers a hand. "Come out. We need your help."

Using his offer to stand, the female brushes off her clothes, worker's garb meant for a male and, thus, hangs loosely on her small frame. He lets her get arranged and ready before motioning her to the terminal of the Core. Not needing much more than that, Rym walks to the too small command console as he follows close behind.

"I want you to try to see if you can boost the signal we're getting with EDI's remaining processes," he says with a rumble, watching her massive fingers tap the keys, wondering how she manages. It's hard enough with his hands on the small human console, so he can't even begin to imagine how Rym does it with such accuracy.

"Yes, I can see where the AI-"

"EDI," he corrects without thought.

Sighing, Rym nods. "EDI. I can see where EDI is capable of enhancing and pinpointing it." Her fingers move as she types. "Accessing it now."

Lighting in the machinery flicker and they make a concerning sound that makes him look to the woman, but she either didn't see and hear or, more likely, is used to it. He isn't sure which is worse, that she isn't very observant or that threatening to shut down the entire ship is common for what she's doing in here.

"Don't worry. EDI doesn't that ever so often."

"Not helping, Rym," he deadpans as the room goes into darkness for a split second before the intercom blares into the humming silence.

" _Garrus!"_ At this moment, his wife's voice carries with it the suspense of either success or the worst failure possible and he is damn sure he doesn't want to hear that they are now dead in the water, so to speak, because of this great idea. If they are powerless, it would take a lot more than the simple reboot like the last time this happened when they were working with a _completely functional_ EDI. " _It worked! We're heading to the Fortuna System. Get your ass up here!_ "

With a nod of 'good work' to the krogan female, he rushes back through the Mess Hall crowd and to the Lift. Most, intelligent as they are, quickly move out of the heavily armored turian except for one person, the Normandy's own batarian, Bray.

"I hear we're finally going after some slavers," he says as he stares at the wall in front of them, the lights of the shaft illuminating, then darkening the compartment as they rise. "I was starting to think you all just wanted my company."

"It is quite entertaining to watch the crew, what's the saying, walk on eggshells around you?"

The man chuckles as the doors open to the CIC and, thankfully, stays out of Garrus' way as he heads to the cockpit. Viewport illuminated with the blurred stars and auras of FTL, he finds Jane with her arms crossed and hip cocked, focused on the pinprick directly before them.

He knows her enough to know that look in her eyes is the one of Commander Shepard waiting for the monsters in the dark to come to light, for the unimaginable enemy to show its face, and he knows that she may very well be right. This could be a mission that turns into one of the most unforgiving ones they've ever faced. Worse than Reapers? Maybe not, but it never hurts to expect the worse so they can be pleasantly surprised.

The distress signal - _'This is the SSV Mirage. Emergency distress beacon active.'_ \- grows stronger, clearer, the closer they get to its source until, when they drop from the heavy force of FTL travel, they come face to face with the apparent SSV Mirage. Desolate and seemingly dead, the massive cargo vessel turned refugee transport merely drifts in the orbit of the nearby Maganlis with massive damage to its airlocks.

"Holy shit," Joker says as his fingers work over the controls. "They just ripped the damn things off."

"That's definitely a slaver trick," Bray says as he walks into the cockpit, all but barreling his way into the slowly building crowd. "Slaver ships have long airlocks that use vacuum to rip airlocks open. The Cargo Bay was probably to load their own shuttles with people."

"Fuck." Jane rubs her forehead. "Fucking slavers. Any idea where they might have taken them? If they'd remain in the area?"

Garrus rumbles and answers for the man with what _he'd_ do in the batarians' place. "They are probably still here waiting to ambush whoever comes to this signal." Joker's eyes widen subtly, but his faster pace with his hands says enough to his worry. "They probably lured this ship in with a distress signal of their own."

"And now this one plays the perfect bait." She nods in understanding before laying a hand on the back of Joker's seat. "How long before we need to vent?"

"We still got some time… Mind telling _me_ what you're thinking?"

"We set a trap of our own," she says with a smirk, looking to Garrus. "Bray, I suggest you make sure your armor is space worthy because we're taking a walk."


	26. Chapter 26

Jane

_Whoever thought up the wonderful idea of having me space walk again needs to be shot… Oh right, that was_ _**my** _ _genius idea. Hurray me._

**_Easy, Jane. You aren't alone out here._ **

"Oh, gee, thanks, Garrus," she says aloud sarcastically into her helmet's comm as she focuses hard on not looking at the big, black emptiness around them as they slowly make their way along the side of the _Mirage_ to its wide open airlock. She was fine for the first few meters, but now halfway, she seems frozen in place, a sick fear sliding down her spine. "As if the Geth dreadnought wasn't bad enough, now I'm out in fucking space _again_."

"The batarian is lost. Archangel didn't even speak."

"Long story," they both say before Jane snorts and stops, turning to look at Bray. "I was spaced…" She waves her flat hand in the air, adding, "I'd give it a one out of ten."

"What's a zero?"

"Sitting through another viewing of the Fleet and Flotilla musical."

"Damn," Garrus says as he gently wraps his hand around her slightly trembling wrist, guiding her forward with a purr under his words. "And here I thought of taking you out to see the new Fleet and Navy. I hear it's based off us."

She groans at the thought of what horrors will come of that, not daring to even consider all the possible ways to screw up something as complicated as the shit they've been through with what little knowledge the public truly has of them. "Jesus, I think _that'd_ be the new zero. Not even the Reapers could make me sit through that."

"Good thing, then. I killed Reapers, that makes me better."

Despite Bray's exasperated groan at their banter, Jane realizes what is happening before her mind has time to think, to recognize what's happening. Pulled by his hand and soothed by his voice, she is moving, albeit slowly, with one mag boot disengaging to step forward before sealing again, the other repeating the slow process.

What wonders her mate still has for her after all these years to be able to overcome her fear of death's returning cold embrace and get her happy ass moving.

When they approach the broken airlock chamber, Bray is first to grip the edge and swing himself in to get properly upright before offering his hand. Perhaps her own grip onto his is a bit too forceful, her fear trying to rear its ugly face, but he doesn't speak as he pulls her weightless form in and down to the proper ground for her boots to lock in magnetically. Garrus is last, probably not needing her offered hand, but taking it anyways as he releases the magnetism of his boots and throws his body into the airlock.

"Well, that was a pain in the ass. What's next?" Bray motions to the Normandy.

Nodding in the silent question of where exactly they plan to hide the massive warship, Jane opens the channel to the ship. "Joker, we're in. Get the Normandy out of sight and wait for the signal. The bastards are bound to come once we shut down their trap."

" _I'm on it. Try not to have too much fun without us."_

She shakes her head as she turns to the hole where an airlock entrance once was, now turned into a dark, gaping wound, going silent as her eyes gaze into the dead ship within. Unholstering her weapon, she clicks on the mounted light and sees three lights bounce off the inner walls as her team does the same. Once set, she motions them to follow as she steps over the threshold and into the depressurized entrance hall.

The accesses to each end are thrown wide open, most likely left that way as the slavers hauled out their newest victims and stolen cargo. She vaguely know enough of the ship's layouts from the debrief to the black void on the far left leads another hall that contains both a lift and access to a private cargo hold turned into extra living quarters for refugees. On the other side of the hall, a larger set of doors will take them to the bridge, their destination.

Flicking her fingers towards their right, she swings her weapon towards the opposite end to cover their movements, not because she expects trouble in this abandoned place, but simply because habits die hard. The alternative would end up causing somebody their lives if this were a real combat situation.

Garrus leads the way with his weapon held high as Bray glances left and over her shoulder, then follows. At least, in terms of the new man in their crew, he has combat experience even when all Jane knew of said experience can from the hectic comm exchanges during Aria's reclaiming of Omega. _After her genius idea to crash her ship into the station, I might add._

**_Clear, Jane. Move up._ **

Shaking off her inner thoughts, she slowly backs towards the bridge, the effects of the zero gravity making them walk in caution even if they were in some kind of hurry. Everything turns into a leisurely walk when you have to rely on mag boots keeping you from either floating into the void or, once inside, bouncing off the walls.

When she steps onto the bridge, Bray raises his weapon towards the empty hall to check their backs before hitting the door commands. They stutter and jerk, but slowly close, giving them some atmosphere. They won't remove their helmets, though - that's the worst idea to have after she nearly pissed herself back on the Geth dreadnought - but it gives them the ability to move faster than an elcor Hamlet's dramatic pauses.

Garrus' fingers are already moving over the console to check for life as he hums in concentration and she walks up to his side. "Do we have anything?"

He nods as he says, "The engineering deck is destroyed, so this ship isn't going anywhere, but there is power. I suggest we only use what we need."

"Yeah, wouldn't want to turn on the lights to give us away." Bray snorts from where he is and approaches one of the navigation terminals, his gloved hand tapping some of the commands to bring up a layout of the systems previously traversed. "Must have been a damn good trap to get them to change their planned route. Would've drained their fuel to the point of barely making it to Earth."

"Risky," she says as she looks to Garrus and calls to the Normandy. "Are you in position, Joker?"

" _Been wondering if you forgot about us. We're ready for your signal."_

Nodding, she looks to Garrus to see if he's ready too and gets his rumbling nod in return. "Good. We're shutting the signal down now, move in slowly when they come looking and, for fuck's sake, _keep out of their line of sight_."

" _Gee, thanks for that bit of info, Commander. What will I do without you?"_

She ignores that and motions her mate an 'all clear' to shut down the signal. If she knows anything about setting a trap, which is something they are doing right now to ambush _someone else_ , it's that those who set it are close by. If the batarian bastards are smart, as soon as they shut down this distress beacon, they will come quick to see what the hell went wrong.

Her husband's fingers move fast over the human console, years making him used to and good at it, and he nods when it's done. Helmeted head turning to her, she hears his growl as he holsters his weapon and Bray speaks. "They won't have their captives aboard their ship."

"What?" Her head snaps to him. "Explain."

"Slaves take up space, time to train. Slaver ships just transport them to a training ground."

"Shit. Think they could be using one of the planets?"

"It's possible," he says with a shrug. "I guess it would depend on how many are involved. If there's multiple ships-"

"Then there's no telling where the refugees are," Garrus growls from his place. "Damn slavers."

"Let's not automatically assume anything," she interrupts. Best to stop that line of thinking right now.

Should this be a multiple ship operation, then there is a likelihood that the actual Hegemony is involved. After all, where would be the best place to find safety when one has taken human refugees as slaves? Also, what is the _usual_ reason batarian slavers take only human captives? Terminus slavers don't restrict themselves to individual species, only someone, or someones, with a grudge do.

She doesn't like the possibilities of what may come if their fears and concerns prove to be true. Would the Alliance be strong enough after a major war not even a year before to be able to retaliate for the blatant violation of Galactic law? Would the Council finally give a shit about the turmoil between Alliance and Hegemony?

_Doubt it._

"Jane, we should prepare the trap."

"What are you suggesting?"

Her mate motions to come to his position at the main consoles. "It looks like this ship was equipped with a defense turret system. Might work to our advantage." She chuckles and nods, likely the way he thinks as she takes to learning the system while he approaches Bray. "Tell me what you know about the Hegemony's slaver ships. How are they built?"

"All batarian ships are designed where the crew quarters and bridge are distanced from engineering and core." He balls his fists and holds them apart as he adds, "both are connected by a corridor with cells built to house on-board slaves." He shrugs. "The added size makes it look more intimidating to enemies, I guess."

"Perfect," her husband says with a growl that she just knows comes with a smirk, his mind working up a perfect plan. "Jane, have the Normandy target the engineering sector of the ship." She nods in understanding as Garrus returns to the Captain's console. "We'll be 'civil' and give them a chance to surrender the location of the refugees before we blow them out of the sky."

Jane snorts. "Right. It's only fair."

"Let me pull the trigger," Bray all but demands as he comes to her, forcing her away from the console with his own towering figure. "You promised me dead slavers and I'm going to get it one way or another."

Sighing, Jane lifts her hands and backs from the commands, waving off her growling mate. "Calm your tits, Bray. I know what I told you. You want to pull the trigger on them, fine, but you follow Garrus' calls." She looks to Garrus to lead as she steps over to the communications controls and he nods in affirmation. ""Let's get the info we need and let's get this shit done."

"Speaking of," the turian rumbles as he taps a few commands to bring up a readout of the last transmissions from the Captain's terminal. "Looks like they really were chasing a transmission." His fingers move as he pulls up a communications recording.

" _This is Captain Patten with the SSV Mirage. We followed your distress beacon, Reaver._

"That's a Hegemony ship," the only batarian in the room says, obviously well versed in his knowledge of his people's ships even after escaping imprisonment. "One of the most well-known slavers, too."

Garrus, hearing all they need to know for now, shuts down the audio recording as vessel's signal approaches on their emissions radar. "Looks like our guests are arriving."

Watching the ping closing in, Jane looks out of the massive cockpit viewport at the large ship before them. True to Bray's description, the ship is built as if of two smaller vessels connected by a long central corridor. Definitely not something for stealth, but intimidating in its own when she considers what happens when that ship catches others unaware.

Taking a deep breath, she opens a comm channel to hail their 'rescuers'. "Distress, distress. This is the SSV Mirage, we are heavily damaged and in need of assistance. I repeat, we are damaged and stranded."

Garrus nods in acknowledgment to her convincing hail and waits for the response, leaning on his console as Bray taps his fingers on his own anxiously. She can't blame him for being on edge, but this will be the true test to see if they can trust him on the field or if they need to return him to the great red Omega.

" _SSV Mirage, this is the Reaver. We're coming in to assist._ " Bray fidgets at the weapon controls, his will at least strong enough to hold back his want for revenge for the past. " _What happened to you, SSV Mirage?"_

"Normandy, move in," she orders before smirking and accessing the communications. "Funny you should say that, Reaver…"

"Target them," her mate says as he holds up a hand in 'hold fire'. He keeps his hand raised as the _Reaver's_ return communication comes back, short and slightly irritated.

" _Disengage your weapons. We're here to help you."_

"That's not going to happen," the turian growls as he crosses his arms, nodding to Jane in what she knows is the signal to link up with the Normandy drifting in just beyond the Reaver's field of vision.

" _A turian? What the hell are you doing on a human transport?"_

She chuckles at the confusion and, dare she say, panic coming through the comm link? Garrus takes it in stride as he hums and says, "This is Spectre Vakarian and I'll only say this once. Give us the human captives and this won't turn violent."

She snorts unheard at his 'diplomacy', knowing he's anything but in these kind of situations, and the batarian on the other end of the comm link laughs. " _Bad idea,_ " he says darkly as the Reaver's own weapons lower from the hull.

"Ah, look how tiny it is. It's so cute."

Her mate rumbles and opens his tool. "Ours are bigger. Normandy, open fire."

The massive Thanix cannon glows brightly and fires, sending a beautiful flame of blue, molten metal spearing through space and cutting into the Reaver's engineering sector. She doesn't know if it's just her mind imagining or the actual comm when she hears the shouts and angered curses from the other side of the transmission, but it soothes her anger all the same as the once barbell shaped ship is now the crew quarters and a broken shard of what's left from the center sector.

" _What the fuck was that?! What's-"_

Garrus nods and looks to Bray, motioning the ship outside the window in 'get ready'. "I'll say it one more time. Tell us where the human refugees are and we might just leave you to call for help."

" _We don't have them! We don't have them… They've already been transported."_

"Explain."

"Normandy," Jane quickly calls, lowering her voice. "Prepare a second shot and fire when the Mirage fires."

" _They've already been sent to our home system. We did what you want… Don't forget our de-"_

Jane frowns as Garrus growls and gives his final order. "Open fire."

Bray punches the command for the weapons, sending the first of the barrage of molten fire into the Reaver's rusted and acid soaked hull. His own sick happiness as he chuckles doesn't pass on to the other two on the bridge, however, as they consider what this means in the long run.

Not only are the human refugees possibly - definitely - gone into the abyss of the unknown batarian territories, or whatever is left of them after the Reapers, but there is the huge question of what will happen on a galactic scale. Taking captives is an act of _war_ , one that can't just go on unchallenged, no matter the species involved.

They may have destroyed _one_ of the ships responsible, but, in every other instance, they have failed. They failed to save those people and they have, without knowing, possibly failed to stop another war from breaking out so soon after one of the most devastating one.

Only the reaction once they return to 'civilization' will tell.


	27. Chapter 27

Garrus

There are various ways he could look at the result of their mission, both good, bad, and professionally neutral.

They, technically, fulfilled their mission to discover what was and had happened to the human refugee ships without being thrown into a surprise, but not unexpected, ambush. As expected, the batarians _were_ to blame, but that's just about all the good they had to show for their efforts. Will they manage to actually do anything with the information? That was a big, resounding _no_.

In fact, there is no telling what their discovery of this being a Hegemony act against humanity will result in. If he knew the Alliance - which, through his wife, he had his own insider view of - this wasn't the end of the issue and, if he knew the Council - which, again, he knew all too well - the human species would be alone should they search for retribution. There could very well be another war for humanity to face once again if their leaders insisted on keeping up their front of complete control over their internal affairs.

It is all too much for him to consider this close to the war they barely managed to survive that he purposely blocks any further mention or consideration from his thoughts. If the Alliance declares war, he knows full well what he'll do to ensure they don't drag his wife down into their futile strike back against the batarians.

Still doesn't take away that frustration at the perceived failure - _half failure_ \- the two of them wear on their forms as they wait through the decontamination cycle back in the Normandy airlock. Bray, true to his warning that his intent was to take down slavers, doesn't feel their shared disappointment at the outcome of this mission, but, then again, Garrus hadn't expected it to be any different.

In a way, he wishes he, too, could force himself not to worry of the long-term effects that this will bring on his mate from her very own, seemingly unsatisfied, people. If they didn't have such a tight noose around her neck, one that only seems to have tightened since the Reapers' interoperability, he could be over there beside her as she leans against the airlock wall and help teach her how to detach as he has always done since Omega. Until he can learn a way to cut that tie, however, Archangel's ways will have to wait, his irritation and rage at the powers that be festering.

He can, in this moment, be there beside her to shoulder the weight he doesn't want to either of them as he steps over to her, laying a hand on her shoulder with a companionable rumble. His touch has her releasing a heavy breath as she stands straight and closer to him, her helmeted head laying against his armored chest.

"This fucking galaxy and it's never ending shit," she says with an anger that even has Bray looking over. "I should have just let the Reapers wipe the fucking board clean."

"I don't know about that." He hums as she steps back and look up at him, giving him the feeling that she's raising her brow in anticipation of what he'll add. "If we all let the Reapers win, then I wouldn't have this arm you _love_ so much," he says with a low, suggestive growl to hint at the night they spent fully exploring the capabilities of their new limbs.

"Save it, please," Bray deadpans. "I don't want to have to sit in decon for _another_ ten minutes."

"It hasn't even been that long."

"Feels like it."

Garrus snorts as, as if summoned, the doors to the airlock swing open, the image of Major Alenko at the door way. He nods in greeting as Jane removes her helmet, Garrus following and Bray, well, just walking off down the ramp to CIC.

Kaidan's attitude and spirits varies during the days, his headaches dictated by his stress or workloads and just like most of them, he always seems to deserve the break that was taken away by duty. Garrus might not know much about biotics or their implants, but he can clearly see that, in its absence, the man's comfort seems to be completely at the mercy of his moods, going from a manageable ache to a crippling agony. Outdated tech or not, the L2 must have kept him more afloat over his pain than most of them must have thought. Either that, or its damage resides even past its removal.

Right now, his face is pulled taut in concern as he looks them over. "Shepard, I was here when Garrus gave the order to fire. The refugees weren't on board?" Jane's long pause makes the man frown, a silent language of facial expressions passing between the humans that could be saying more than words, and Garrus watches as she runs a hand over her head. "Shepard?"

"Garrus?" His mate turns to him and motions a hand down the CIC. "Can you go relieve Traynor of baby duty while I debrief Kaidan? I have a feeling I'll need to check into the Alliance before I contact the Council."

"Would be better to hear it from you," he admits with a nod, releasing her hand and giving Alenko a passing nod as he heads down the ramp. Hearing their footsteps not far behind, he can make out the Major's continued questioning, but however his mate is planning on giving the news, she holds it in while still in earshot of the crew.

Probably for the best, after all. There's no telling if one of the crewmen aboard the Normandy would take the new particularly bad. Learning of an attack on the innocent of your species has a way of lowering morale, especially after an already devastating war involving the entire galaxy and monstrous machines from everyone's worst nightmares.

When he arrives in the Loft, he finds Traynor trying to teach the babies to speak. Simple words, sure, but those similar to what he and Jane are trying on their own time like 'mama' and 'dada'. So far, they haven't gotten much beyond babbles, but he likes to think they are learning just as they're learning, slowly, to balance on their own two feet.

Deciding their children's first language was a bit of a challenge at first considering their parents' separate species. It made him wonder how mixed asari couples manage, whether they teach their children one language or two, local dialect or planet standard.

If they considered their own situation, then Cassia and Damocles would need to learn at least _three_ languages, Galactic Standard, Palaven Standard, and Earth Standard. That doesn't even include the local dialects he and Jane originally spoke _before_ learning their own species' standard, universal language. That would bring their children's known languages to at least four since he is pretty sure he is the only one who knows a dialect different from turian standard.

So they started with Galactic, something both parents could speak and understand. Palaven and Earth Standard will come after, even if he and the kids won't be able to speak the human language or she be able to speak the turian equivalent. That way, they will all at least understand one another without the constant need for translators.

Plus, he has to admit, he secretly wants to be able to get to Palaveni once they all learn Palaven Standard as it's something, he thinks, that makes his family unique in that they know and speak such an old and uncommon turian dialect. After all, it was something that helped he, his sister, and his father all hide in plain sight while staying at the refugee workers' camp.

"Hey, Samantha," he greets as she tries, once again, to get the twins to say 'mama'. "How is it coming? Should we be expecting to hear reciting of the Galactic Standard alphabet soon?"

Traynor chuckles and shakes her head as she stands up to turn a smile his way. "I try, but I don't think they want to yet. Seems like they'll talk when they feel like it."

"Sounds like something they'd do." Approaching the reaching babies, he kneels in the Specialist's former spot and takes each of their hands in his massive ones, caressing with his thumb. "Hey, guys. Did you like your day with Sam?" Cassia coos with a purr as her brother bounces, trying to get closer. "Easy, Damocles. Daddy's got you," he says tenderly as he leans forward and pulls them both in his arms, cradling them to each side of the jut of his chest piece.

"Are you sure you don't want to remove your armor?"

He shakes his head as he starts to head for the door. "I feel better knowing I'm prepared for anything, even on the Normandy." Stopping to turn to her, he motions what he suspects if the pieces of a half built double crib - the _only_ thing giving him that idea the opened box beside the heap of parts. "Don't worry about that. I'll set it up tonight."

"Oh, well, it was actually James that was trying…" She sort of drifts off, looking the mangled pile of safe plastics and bedding.

"That explains a lot, actually," he responds with a chuckle and motion of his chin to join him out in the lift. She nods and quickly grabs the twins' toys, Cassia's book and Damocles' varren, before rushing to follow. "Have they eaten?"

"Oh yeah," she answers with a smile and waves the tiny stuffed varren before his son's tiny hands, making questionable sounds of mimicry of the animal. "They're all fed and changed."

"Good, thank you." Cassia grabs at his mandible, making his voice lisp. "Did 'ey gif you proff'ems?"

"Uh… What?"

Flicking his mandible in his daughter's hand makes her giggle uncontrollably - which then makes her brother laugh in and endless cycle - he gives up on trying to speak as the doors open to the CIC.

Traynor shrugs off whatever he asks and tucks the twin's toys into his armor's broad cowl before stepping out. "See you, Garrus. And you too, you cute little babies," she says with her voice pitched higher, playing with their feet to make them giggle.

Garrus chuckles at how easily entertained his two little ones are as he looks down to their smiling faces, the Comm Specialist taking her leave to let the doors close once again. Cassia has let go of him, leaving his mandible cold and missing the touch, but he makes up for the loss with gentle nuzzles to their heads, nipping the soft hide between their head plates to make them scream and squirm.

He almost wishes their plates would stay parted as they are in infancy, leaving the sensitive hide exposed to his and Jane's tickles and attentions, instead of growing together as they age into full adults. A selfish desire, sure, but with the best intentions as a turian who, like all others, lost sensation to the most delicate of touches.

Not that it would stop their parents from finding all the places to get that innocent entertainment of making their children giggle and squirm from teasing tickles or loving nuzzles and kisses. Besides, lessened - compared to Jane, anyways - feeling aside, he can say that his plates do give a protection over the oversensitive human skin as fragile as a baby's hide. If anything, he can look at is as his children growing that natural protection against the elements.

Finally arriving at the Crew Deck, he steps out and heads to the Mess to get himself a late, and much needed, meal. He may even try to prepare Jane a ration as well for when she eventually manages to save herself from the Council and Alliance, but he doesn't hold much hope for his skills on that particular battlefield.

Bray is already half into his meal, which isn't surprising given that he too missed out on the scheduled dinner with them thanks to their trek into the empty _Mirage_ , but what he doesn't expect - and what also makes him growl in threat - is the presence of Lantar standing before the cooler in the Mess prep station. The man hears him and looks over with a chirp, thinking about ducking his head in the way his mandibles flick, but he surprises Garrus when he doesn't. _So he has_ _ **some**_ _spine. Just don't let it go to your head, Sidonis. It'll be my pleasure to put you back in your place._

"Oh, this will be fun," Bray says from his seat at the Mess table, leaning back in his chair for the predicted show. "And here I thought nothing would take my mind off needing a smoke."

"Garrus, I, uh," Lantar begins, rubbing his neck with a anxious rumble. _So he still gets nervous around me. Good._ "I stayed up in case anything happened on the ground. I guess I missed dinner call too."

He chuckles nervously as the taller man enters the small alcove of the prep station, looking intimidating despite the two curiously chirping babies in his arms. "Move."

"What?"

"Move," Garrus says again with a jerk of his head to the cooler where the bland MREs await.

"Oh. Right." The younger turian rumbles and steps to the fridge, grabbing an MRE for both human and turian, offering. "Here you go," he offers with a humming rumble and flicker of a smile.

A silence passes them as Garrus narrows his eyes in suspicion, a growl just waiting in his throat as he considers what Sidonis' aim is. Whatever Jane may think of the man, he still doesn't trust him, doesn't want to trust him, but, instead of get the hint of his distaste, Lantar _continues_ to find his way into Garrus' path. Small ship, sure, but he doesn't have to be constantly reminded of the damn traitor with every step.

Sighing, he takes the peace offering with a nod, bending down with a jerk of his chin to his cowl. Sidonis' eyes widen with a shocked trill before he snaps back to reality, nodding rapidly as he gently reaches forward and lays the rations in the armor piece with a wide smile. He still has to fight not to tense up in preparation for a fight, to snap with his only weapon at the hands so close to his children, and, if Lantar notices, he doesn't react which helps to calm his instincts.

Sidonis doesn't linger, stepping back to give the older man space to head to the table, Bray sitting with a disappointed look on his face. Just as well, Garrus thinks, because the last thing he wants is to have no one he trusts having to protect his children while he puts Lantar in his place in a fight.

He sits and sets the twins to sit in his lap, an arm wrapped around them to hold them upright, and takes out the rations and toys. Tiny hands reach for their respective things and he can't help the chuckle as he offers them over, hearing happy chirps and babbles. He won't be able to eat yet while using both hands to hold and tend to the babies, but he doubts Jane will be gone too long.

"Want help with your food?" Sidonis sits in front of him with his own MRE prepared before him. "Or are you waiting for, you know, your mate?"

"I'll wait." His response is short with an undertone of a gravelly growl to watch how far he pushes his luck.

Lantar nods and looks down to his food, picking at it with a rumble of apology. Garrus knows he would be reprimanded were his mate here, but, sometimes, she oversteps turian social boundaries and, in this instance, it's better Garrus get his intentions to _not_ be 'friends' with the man while she's not around to give the wrong impressions.

That is when Cassia thinks it the right time to reach for the rations on the table and knock it off and onto the floor. It lands with a heavy thumb that makes Bray chuckle and Garrus sigh in exasperation, knowing he's going to have to try to find a way to pick it up.

Stared at with a quirked brow and a smirk from the batarian at the table, Garrus growls and picks up his daughter to set her on the table, she the least likely to explore. She trills in excitement at the height as he holds Damocles close to his chest, leaning over with chirping baby in hand to grab the food package off the ground and onto the table.

Coming back up to table level, something is _very wrong_. He trills and nearly yelps in shock as his eyes immediately see no Cassia, her place completely empty on the table. Panicking, he looks at the floor as his heart drops to his gizzard, but it isn't where she is, his wide and worried eyes not seeing her.

Suddenly, he hears a surprised trill and happy squeal. Head snapping up to the sound, he blinks in surprise as he sees where his little daughter has gone, what trouble she's gotten into.

Sitting on the table before a stunned Sidonis, Cassia giggles and slaps her hand into the gravy of his Xemna, splashing it up onto hers and the man's clothes. His eyes snap up to Garrus, worry in his eyes before he looks to the little one, purring as he gently takes her hand. "Hey, hey," he softly says with a smile as he reaches for a napkin. "Let's not make _too_ big a mess."

Hand clean, Sidonis seems lost with what to do next. He's always been a timid turian, quiet and always observant of dangers, and now is no different as he teeters on the edge of doing what's right by the child and angering her father. His care answers the decision for him as he reaches up and gently removes the baby girl from the table, rumbling to her.

Garrus growls at the man's hands on his daughter, but a voice snaps him out of his building rage. "Oh, knock it off," the only voice that can control him orders as bootsteps enter the Mess, his wife's red hair pulled back into a simple tie and only in her undersuit for more comfort. "Let him hold her. He's going to need to get used to her if he's ever going to take looks at her or give her vaccines."

"I don't think that's such a good idea," Lantar says with a rumble as he holds Cassia out for Jane to take. "I'm a medic, not a pediatrician."

Seeing the logic in her argument that, for once, isn't just focused on emotions and gut feelings, but logical conclusions, Garrus sighs and nods in agreement. "She's right. At least until we can find ourselves a doctor we trust, you should look into basic pediatric care for both humans _and_ turians in case any emergencies arise."

He can't believe he just agreed to let this traitor not only touch, but _treat_ his children. He'd rather have to sleep with a Reaper than but trust in Sidonis concerning his children's or his mate's health. Yet, even through his rage, he can see the need to put their health above all else, to find a way to keep from strangling the only medically trained person aboard.

With hopes, it will only be until they arrive, once again, at the Ascension or other major port because, once docked, they should be able to find someone out there that still has loyalty towards them. They may even be able to ask Michel or Chakwas aboard.


	28. Chapter 28

-Jane-

Choosing to ignore the early morning interruption to change and feed their children before going back to sleep, she can say she slept better than she'd have thought considering the circumstances. Numb to the possibility of war is not really something she'd call herself, yet it was exactly how she felt, the idea of the Alliance sending troops off to _another_ war just something she couldn't pull herself to care about. Was it because she had all but given up on her own people in order to live her life alone in peace? Or did she truly no longer fear the devastating loss war would bring?

Is that what being ready to die for everything once and having her sacrifice thrown back in her face with demands for more left her with? An apathy towards those not directly associated with the dysfunctional family unit she had created over the years?

If there was one thing she knew, it was that she would damn the Alliance before she threw the Normandy, her crew, and _her family_ into whatever ill-fated war her own people will stupidly pursue with the Hegemony. Not that she blamed them for wanting retribution for their own people being taken away and most definitely sold into slavery, just that she was done with wars, had her scars, physical and mental, from a war they had to practically fight alone, and wouldn't do it again.

 _Does that make me a monster?_ She asks herself behind closed eyes, wondering if she lost her sense of humanity with the destruction of the Reapers. _Or have I finally found the will to fight only for myself and my own purpose than that of others?_

She can promise herself that she'd be the first to demand war had her own loved ones been on the _Mirage_ \- hell, would have gone to war even _without_ the Alliance or Council at her back - because her children and mate are the only ones to add meaning to her life. In fact, she fights even now beside her husband to ensure the safety of their two, tiny children from those who would move to hurt them for control over their parents or for their own sick curiosity. They and Garrus are both her weakness and her strength.

Opening her eyes to look up at the ceiling, she lets her eyes get used to the room brighter than her closed eyes before turning to look at the sleeping turian at her side. His head right beside her shoulder and keel laying against her arm, Garrus emits that rumbling purr of a snore he's gained ever since his kiss with a rocket and one that has grown on her as a soothing white noise deep in the night. Probably from scar tissue deep within, but it doesn't seem to have caused any medical concern and, in her eyes, it's more soothing in the dark of night where silence plays with her ears in the form of screams and Reaper howls.

His arm still lays over her belly, ready to pull her close at any stray movement, but it's not a suffocating hold, not one she instinctively wants to pull from. It's just the opposite. Where he lays close, practically pins her down, she doesn't try to pull away or put space between them, but pushes closer, wishing they could get so close their bodies could become one being, a single bright star. He was and is the only one to ever give her that burning feeling of need from proximity.

She smiles as she rolls onto her side and scoots closer so that his keel presses between her breasts, making her able to feel his rumbling through their connection as she hears it. Watching him sleep, she gently caresses his cheek with the back of her fingers, smiling wider when his mandible flutters at the contact.

If she didn't already have experience with him, she wouldn't have been able to notice that moment between sleep and waking when his mandibles pull up just slightly from their completely limp position against the pillow to a controlled, but still relaxed, position against his mouth. His vocals, too, change just slightly where an untrained ear wouldn't immediately register - well, perhaps a turian would - just before his hand lifts from her hip to cover her own against his cheek.

"Good morning, Garrus," she says softly as his crystal blue eyes reveal themselves. "How'd you sleep?"

"Good considering our early morning wake up call." He chuckles and leans closer to nuzzle his forehead to hers before kissing her.

Humming happily as her body truly starts to wake up with the fire building in her belly from his touch, she opens her lips and feels his slender tongue slide against her lips to curl around her own. His taste bursts across her tongue, filling her mouth as his own grows wetter in that alien - yet familiar - sign of arousal.

Hand running down her hip to cup the remnant of her leg, he pulls her thigh to lay over his hip. That same hand caresses towards her ass, cupping and squeezing the roundness his finds there. She never knows what it is about her flabby bits that he enjoys so much - too much to be sane for a turian, she thinks - but the lustful and, on the opposite end, tender touches he gives them makes her feel desired wholly. He could do it for her benefit, but she thinks he loves what makes her alien to him just as much as she loves the curve of his fringe, scratch of his talons, and hard plates that make her pine for nothing else.

Garrus rolls them so he holds himself up with his only arm, their prosthetics lying at the bedside, and buries his face in her neck without a care for her hair tangling in his mandibles as he runs that deliciously rough tongue over her pulse. She moans as she cups his head and rear, pushing his hips against her so she can feel his hard length against her skin, her slick folds.

"Please, Jane," he whispers against her ear, nibbling her lobe. "Let me in."

His thrumming against her, a vibration she feels in the deepest parts of her, urges her on as she releases his ass to slide a hand around his hip, taking his ridged cock in a hand too small to come close to wrapping around its circumference. With breaths mingling, his hitching and hers akin to a needy pant, she lines him up.

Penetration is a smooth slide of hot flesh that spreads her wide, each ridge moving past her lips with a solid 'pop' that sends bolts of lightning down to curl her toes and arches her back. Each bump of his length expands her more, his length deepening, until he is seated completely within her, her vulva flowered against his sheath in a pink against blue kiss.

There is but a moment of pause before he pulls back and kisses her, tongue sliding past her flushed lips as his cock slides into her pink, slick lower lips. Deep, crooning moan sings against her tongue as he swallows her whine, her voice changing pitch as he thrusts back in with a solid smack of plates and thighs.

She only pulls away when her senses take control, her mind jumping to a very real concern. "The twins…" She grunts out between his hard thrusts, mouth plates taking her lip in with a slight pinch. "What if they wake? …"

"Then I won't knot."

His growling, a rhythm akin to an old engine from her childhood against her ear, erases all protest from her mind as she's turned into a mess of sensation, from the heat of his breath against the chill of her sweat to the way his plates slide over her skin and the sounds of their wet connection sucking and sliding with each pop of him within and without her. All sense washes away as she moans and cups his face, yanking him into a forceful kiss with one hand and digging fingers into his scarred waist with another.

"I'm…close," she warns, panting against his warm plates with a whining gasp as she teeters on the edge. She wants him to join her, jump off the ledge by her side in this aspect as they do everything else, and, to help him in the only way her floating mind can, she grabs his fringe and yanks his head back to bite into his throat.

Her teeth don't do much besides dig into the flesh, but the sting of the bite has to be what throws him over as he groans and shoves in before pulling back. In the next instant, she feels the burning heat of his seed filling her walls and she, too, groans in her orgasm, this time against the wet spot from her saliva, body taut.

Just when she thinks this is the time to bask in their shared climax, she is stunned into confusion when he moves, pulling from her completely. She frowns and opens her mouth to say something, but he moves too fast, lowering in bed and pressing his mouth to her folds and shoving his tongue deep inside.

"Oh, fuck," she gasps as she feels it curl within their mixed fluids and pull back, repeating. If she didn't know better, it's almost as if… "Are you…?"

Dark eyes look up at her from between her thighs and she understands, whining in pleasure from both his tongue and the sheer intensity of him cleaning her with his mouth, his tongue. Going down on her is one thing, but she hadn't met a man kinky enough to clean up his _own_ mess with his mouth.

With a final curl and slide of his tongue, he sits up and she watches his throat physically move as he - _yes, in fact, he just did_ \- swallows their combined cum. She blinks at him in surprise for a moment before smirking, the quick switch in emotions getting a questioning rumble out of him.

"What?" He asks as he lays down beside her, hand caressing her hip when she rolls to face him.

"No one's ever done that," she answers with a chuckle, caressing his scarred mandible. "Most men are opposed to cleaning up their own messes. Hell, every damn one I've been with wouldn't even kiss me after I gave them head."

He snorts. "That's…idiotic."

"Why do it now?"

"Because we're on a time schedule." He kisses her and sits up, reaching for his arm and snapping it into place with a hiss of connectivity. "And I don't want you to have to worry about leaking in your clothes."

She smirks. "And if I wanted to look like I pissed myself."

"Then I suggest you drink a lot of water," he replies with a teasing chuckle and hands her one of her legs for her to attach. "I hear that helps achieve what you're after. Although, I don't think it'll get us the appropriate response from the Council."

"Damn. Oh well." Jane takes the second leg and snaps it on with a loud click and hiss of the prosthesis falling into place. "I guess we should head down to quickly grab some breakfast before we dock with the Ascension. Can't _wait_ to hear what kind of shitstorm our latest news will bring down."

Garrus hums and nods, looking to the double crib where a soft chirping begins to come from. "I should see what the twins need. Wouldn't want to walk them downstairs and need a change of clothes in the middle of the Mess. Their smell alone could clear the Deck."

She laughs as she gets up and starts to throw on clothes, his own form moving to the crib to receive happy chirps and clicks as little hands reach out for their father. The sight itself makes her smile, forget everything for just a moment, and she can see how truly devoted of a father he is. There's also the added bonus in that telltale flutter in her belly from the sight that makes her want to ride him like the Mako, which surprises even her after her lifelong fear of her own children after the horrible mother her own was.

Snapping out of her inner thoughts, she looks to him to find his eyes scanning the Loft, Cassia on his hip. She lifts a brow in question as she crosses her arms and asks, "Okay, I have to ask. _What_ are you doing?"

"We should think about changing this room."

"Changing?" He nods and looks to her. "What the hell for?"

"To give the twins some peace and quiet and us a chance to do what we just did without worrying about waking them. They're at the age where they won't sleep through everything anymore."

"So, what, their own room? Up here?" Now she looks around the room. "How the hell would we do that?" That makes him rumble in thought as he looks around, bouncing the baby on his hip to entertain her as he walks the room. Climbing the steps, he stops and she can tell he has an idea when his mandibles flutter. "Alright… Spit it out."

"We'll convert this upper office." He starts to point out as he lists, "Remove these shelves, get rid of the desk, create another entrance to the showers, and put up a wall here and it'll be just big enough for their crib and maybe the crate of their things. If not, we'll just keep their stuff out here like it is now."

It's a good idea, come to think of it. After all, they just need a quiet place for the crib while the babies sleep because she can guarantee they won't be stuck on this fucking ship long enough for the twins to need more room than that or the privacy away from their parents, so a small nursery like the upper floor would definitely work.

"And we have the bonus of the models' window that tints for when they need to rest," she says aloud and he nods in agreement.

"If they even sleep better with it darker. They might like the view clear for the light from the tank they're used to." With a clearing of his throat and look to his daughter, he smiles softly. "And we can look in on them."

 _How adorable_ , she thinks with a smile and goes to him, lifting on her toes to kiss his jawline so he doesn't have to bend over her a proper kiss. "You're a good father. I'll talk to Harrot to look into acquiring the supplies and crew to work it in. I have a feeling Omega will be the place to get it done."

"Harrot, huh?"

She snorts at his raised brow, saying, "Aria doesn't want us going into the Black Markets anymore, so she set us up with our own Requisitions Officer. He'll get us what we need. In fact, I still need to head down and see how he's settled into the Cargo Bay."

"Cargo… I wonder how Jimmy is taking the new guest."

"I'm more worried about how _Harrot_ is taking it," she responds as she kisses Cassia's head and goes to the crib to kiss Damocles before heading towards the door. "I take it you want a ration bar?"

"All out of prime cut Louza? Damn."

Her eyes roll on their own accord, but she knows his pain completely. Living on rations bars and MREs has become the norm after the war for many people as supply lines are more focused on transporting people and supplies than high-grade food stores that have an actual expiration date. It still doesn't mean that they can't want for something better, like a huge plate of pasta or, in his case, a huge serving of raw Louza.

But that's an issue for another mission on another day, so she heads down to the Mess to get what they _do_ have. They're going to need the best for when they see the Council because she's sure as hell that the conversation about a definite - because she knows the Alliance _and_ Hegemony too well to expect anything else - war won't be an easy, or short, one.


	29. Chapter 29

Jane

Returning to the Destiny Ascension marked a return to the egocentric, apathetic lunacy of the galaxy's highest and mightiest, of the ones that should be doing more than showering themselves in praise and luxury. Where is the honor, the care for those who lost their lives to make all this glimmering riches? What of those living in shit trying to rebuild and live in what remains in the Reaper's paths of destruction?

Being on this ship just made Jane feel sick to her stomach, want to turn around and see if the Reapers wanted to perform an encore. Just for the sake of knocking some damn sense into these fucking idiots.

"So… Back to talk to the brick wall that is the Council?"

She snorts at Joker with little amusement at the truth of that and looks over to him just as Garrus steps into the airlock and waits for her. "And here I thought telling us the obvious wasn't in your forte." The pilot shrugs just as she steps over the airlock threshold. "Let Kaidan know he has the ship until we get back."

"Great, just what I need. Momma Kaidan to come tell me how I need more nap times."

The doors close as she rolls her eyes and allows herself a smirk of pride. Choosing Alenko as the go-to XO while she and Garrus are off-ship has to be one of their best ideas for more than the obvious reasons.

Not only was he the highest ranking - officially, anyways - member of the crew in any species' chain of command, but he was also meant for the daily grind of command. He could tend to every crew matter besides those pertaining to the ground missions, which was Jane and Garrus' _only_ job, it seemed lately. He also has a good report with the crew, both squad and onboard staff, and would always be the first to know if there was issue in any sector, whether it be the need for supplies or more delegation than the lax command the Normandy was known for.

The last probably was better solved with his light hand instead of the violence first nature of the unofficial CO couple. The last thing they needed was Jane or Garrus handling a simply stir-crazy argument between crew that only needs pacification by a third, neutral party.

_Right, let Kaidan deal with keeping the crew calm and ship running while we deal with the damn politics and ground missions. Wait… Who is winning in this arrangement?_

"Ever have that feeling that other people's jobs look more difficult on paper than they really are?" She asks, probably out of the blue from his point of view.

"What?" He looks to her with a confused rumble and look in his eyes like she's suddenly said she wants to star in a Hanar interpretive dance routine.

Snorting, she shakes her head. "Never mind. I was just thinking about the XO position we practically dumped on Kaidan. Thinking about it, I think he got out lucky for not having to deal with this bullshit." She motions the opening airlock exit. "I mean, look at us. Once again, we're going out to talk nicely to the Council in order to try to convince them to not be complete idiots."

He chuckles as starts to lead the way down the gangplank, saying, "You'd really rather be doing paperwork on the ship's daily emissions readings, FTL destinations, communication buoy usage-"

"Okay," she cuts off with a raised hand. "I get it, I get it. Mercy. No wonder the guy gets migraines. Just that has my head pounding."

Garrus bumps her armored shoulder with his own. "If he didn't want the job, he'd have said. I think helping us out with the crew command is something he can do that isn't Alliance ordered."

She nods at that, agreeing in her own way. Did Alenko still see the Alliance in a bright light? Of course, but he wasn't so much a lap dog as he used to be, isn't so blinded by their orders and actions to not be able to act on his own. He may have been thrown onto the Normandy on Hackett's orders to practically spy on them, but he isn't just sitting on his ass while he does it. Not that she could really do anything to make him either stop reporting to them or pull his weight if he didn't already come to her with the request to allow him to be useful.

If anything, he seemed to take the responsibility with pride and happiness. It was much less stressful than dropping on the ground with the soldiers, better than dodging bullets and explosions, so maybe it was also healthier in terms of his headaches. Hell, she'd even say that he was in the wrong position all those years he was out in the fields. If he doesn't return to teaching when everything settles into a sort of normalcy, then he should definitely consider a position of personnel command or relations.

"We've got company," his voice calls her from her thoughts and she looks up to the sight of a female turian standing just at the perimeter of the Normandy's dock, her ashen brown face covered in elegant cream looking over the ship.

From the looks of her, she doesn't seem trouble, but, then again, there have been times when the most unassuming people turned out to be the most problematic. Just look at Jane's clone and the schist that bitch put them through. Still, they can't really get out without passing her, so they approach with caution, Garrus' hand close to his weapon. _Ah, the perks of being Spectres. We can shoot_ _ **who**_ _we want,_ _ **when**_ _we want._

"Ah, Spectres Vakarian," she greets with a flicker of her mandibles, her hands behind her back coming out to offer a shake to, at least, Jane, while she nods in greeting to Garrus. "I wasn't sure if it was still 'Commander' and 'Praetor', so my apologies if you go by another title."

That throws Jane for a loop as she stutters in her hand shake. _You mean someone actually_ _ **cares**_ _about being polite? And a female turian, no less. Here I thought every one besides Sol is an utter bitch._ It all leaves her completely at loss for any elegant words. "Huh?"

The woman chuckles and her mandibles shift in a teasing smirk. "Would you like to go by Commander or Spectre?"

"Oh…" She chuckles as she collects herself. "Technically, I'm not a Commander anymore. Pretty sure I resigned when Garrus clocked the Admiral and we went AWOL for a while."

"Spectre Vakarian is it," the woman replies with a nod before Jane corrects her.

"Shepard is easier. Would be more difficult to know who the hell people are talking to if we both go by our legal surname."

The female rumbles a laugh. "Yes, I suppose so." She looks to Garrus. "Will it be Spectre Vakarian for you as well, sir?"

He snorts. "Yes, but, please, no 'sirs'. What I'm more interesting in is why you are here waiting outside our ship." Looking her up and down, he moves his hand from his weapon or at least further from it than practically hovering above its holster.

"My name is Flight Lieutenant Aelia Victus." She rumbles and crosses her arms behind her back as he hums in consideration of that statement.

"Of Primarch Victus' line?"

"Cousin, actually," she says with a chuckle and flick of her slightly aged mandibles. "It's because of him that I've found myself here."

"Oh?" Jane lifts a brow. "Sent you to ask something from us? He wouldn't be the first."

"To tell truth," Victus begins as she looks back at the Normandy. "It was me who would ask a favor of you." She doesn't see the questioning look the two Spectres pass to each other, but continues anyways as she explains. "As I said, I'm a pilot, but the ship I was serving on, the _Adamantine_ , is grounded for an undetermined amount of time until it is airworthy. Supplies and manpower are being used elsewhere, for more important projects like rehoming refugees and rebuilding Palaven." Sighing, she turns back to them. "However, I am afraid I am not meant to be on the ground. I _need_ to fly."

"And that brings you here _why?_ "

Her mate rumbles and flicks his mandibles in consideration, saying, "Were you serving on the _Adamantine_ during the war? In what position?"

"Commanding pilot."

At that, he looks down to Jane and nods softly. "She's one of the best pilots during the war-"

"But why us?"

"Adrien thought you could need the help after your AI took a bad hit with the end of the war. It's also the least we can do after what you did for him and Tarquin… You also can't fly a ship like the Normandy with only one man."

That _is_ technically correct. Joker will never admit it, but everyone else can see that he's running himself ragged. Not only has the loss - temporary, she has to remind herself - of EDI affected his spirits, but he's running on little sleep or rest, never leaving the cockpit for more than a piss. Having another pilot would bring drama from the self-righteous pilot, but the Normandy needs it so long as there isn't an AI, or VI in this situation, to pick up the slack when Joker needs rest. After all, even the SR1 had a VI to assist in maintaining systems when Joker left the wheel, so to speak.

"Can you sit well with being a co-pilot?" Jane asks, knowing there is absolutely no way Joker would pick his ass off that plush leather seat for any man or woman. "Our pilot would rather you pry his cold dead body off his seat before just handing it over."

"Spirits, I'd hope it won't come to that," Aelia responds with a confused trill at the saying.

A rumbling chuckle comes from Garrus as he shakes his head slightly. "It's a human saying… I think."

His confusion at the possible misinterpretation reminds Jane of just how alien they both still are after so many years together and it amuses her to no end that she can still throw him for a loop, but she decides to grant them some mercy when she skips the topic and jumps right to the hard questions. "Can we trust you, Victus? Will you die for the Normandy and her crew as you would the Hierarchy?"

Perhaps that's harsh to ask, but the Normandy tends to find itself in the worst of the worst kinds of situations. They are asked the most from the Galaxy and, if every one of their crew aren't in it till the end, then they wouldn't have survived half the shit they dug themselves out of.

Both Spectres look to the woman as she hums in consideration. "Yes. I take pride in every vessel under my hands and I will treat the Normandy no different. As I was taught since basic, 'my ship is my life and I will die to defend her'."

"The Normandy has its own secrets and not everything we do is up to regulations. Can we trust you to keep your mouth shut? We don't need the media learning about what people do in the shitter or any other bullshit that happens aboard."

He must understand what she's asking without actually saying because Garrus growls out something in his vocals that has the woman looking to him with a soft, humming rumble of her own. Once that wordless conversation between them finishes, he says, "If you can't do that, then say it now because I will not hesitate to solve any problems myself."

Of all the things Jane expects, Victus chuckling with a smirk isn't one of them. In fact, the woman is almost laughing as she turns to the redhead. "I must applaud you, Shepard."

"Why's that?" She raises a red brow and glances to her mate.

"You are able to deal with a territorial and aggressive youngblood like him," she says with amusement as she motions Jane's mate. "It takes the best of our species to do that."

Jane laughs at the fact that she'd being congratulated, much to his chagrin, for putting up with her husband's shit. Hell, she loves him for it. To find out that his stubborn, hotheadedness is so out of the norm for his species that most wouldn't even put up with him is just the sweet, whipped icing on the cake.

He may be a fucking shithead sometimes, but he's _her_ fucking shithead.

"You know what? If I wasn't already going to say yes, I'd do it now thanks to the compliment." Jane grins and offers her hand once more, giving Aelia's a proper shake. "Welcome aboard the Normandy, Aelia Victus. Grab your shit and find yourself a bunk, we leave as soon as the Council sends us on another craptastic mission."

"Which will be within the next hour," Garrus adds as he calms, the easy agreement between the two women - even if at his expense - seeming to help relieve his worries. He opens his Tool and types a quick message, most likely alerting Kaidan to the new addition _and_ warning of a newcomer to hide the children from at least until they discover her trustworthiness. "I've sent orders ahead to our XO, Major Alenko, to allow you aboard and show you around."

"Oh." Jane stops her from turning to the ramp with her small bag. "Ignore our pilot's protests. I'm sure we'll have to knock some sense into him when we're aboard."

" _Uh, Shepard?" Speak of the devil_ , she thinks as his voice comes over her comm. _"What's this I hear about another pilot? You better be joking."_

"I'm not the one named 'Joker'," she responds as her mate sighs an irritated growl at the man's childish behavior already starting to rear its ugly head. "She will assist with co-piloting the Normandy."

_"_ _**Nobody** _ _is to touch her but me! I don't need any fucking help!"_

Patience gone, Garrus gets onto the comm, voice heavy with a growl. "You _will_ allow Victus aboard or I will break your bones getting you out of that damn chair. You are useless as a pilot if you aren't sleeping or eating. You both will work in shifts to fly the ship until EDI is repaired and capable of picking up the slack. Am I understood?"

 _As if that tone lends to protest_ , Jane thinks as Aelia looks on in amusement, apparently not too concerned with Garrus' attitude. She's not worried herself because she knows the two men have never had a steady relationship since her death, it going from tolerance, to camaraderie, to anger at the drop of a hat or stray word. She just hopes that Joker can see the reasoning behind the rage, no matter who it's coming from.

The man shows he's not stupid with he sighs tersely and comes through their comms once again. _"Fine… But she listens to me."_

The turians look to each other and Aelia nods, a motion that Garrus verbally confirms. "Understood. She will maintain a co-pilot's position aboard the Normandy."

" _Wonderful…"_

The comm cuts at that as well as a sigh from the tall turian and Jane lays a hand on his shoulder to remind him to breathe, let the anger wash over him. Joker may be hard to work with, and he needs a kick in the ass to admit he's wrong, and they all know he has gotten more touchy about the Normandy since the end of the war, since losing EDI, but the truth remains. If he keeps going in the direction he is now, he won't be around for when Rym _does_ get EDI up and running. Hell, Jane doesn't think _any_ of them would survive if Joker suddenly passed out at the ship's helm.

"This should be interesting," Aelia Victus says as she starts up the gangway. "I can't wait to see what else the Normandy has in store." She looks over her shoulder with a smirk. "See you aboard, Spectres."

They watch as the woman eventually disappears within the first airlock and Jane glances over to her mate. "Think he'll get over it."

"Just convince him that it's better for the Normandy not to just be left to the elements should he happen to leave the controls unattended."

"Is that what you meant by that threat, there, buddy?" She raises a brow with a smirk. "Because that sure sounded more like a threat to break his bones."

Blue eyes glance her way before looking back to the Normandy a moment, turning away to head for their destination as he says, "I'd rather hurt the feelings of one person than put an entire ship _with us and our children aboard_ at risk. If Adrien trusts her enough to send her our way, then I think having her aboard to pilot alongside Joker is the best option we have until we repair EDI. _If_ it's even possible."

Jane sighs and nods as she moves the few steps to catch up with him. "To the Council, I guess." When he nods, she rubs her temple at the thought of what lies ahead within the Council Chambers. "Fuck, I hate politics. Never in my live would I have ever imagined having to act the politician."


	30. Chapter 30

Garrus

He feels and hears her exhausted irritation with her heavy inhale and outward sigh, her head falling back to look up at the ceiling of the lift taking them up to the Council Deck, or whatever they called the off-limits deck where the Council and their closest Ambassadors called 'home'. Not that they really needed the escorts of Asari Commandos or scarce C-Sec Officers when this entire ship was just full of delegates and politicians fat and lazy with power and self-importance. Idiocy seemed also seemed to be one of their qualities, but that came without saying.

"How much you want to bet that the Council are going to sit with their thumbs up their asses while Hackett, or some other Alliance rep, demands action?"

He hums, feigning actually considering it, before he shakes his head. "Nothing. I know I'd lose." As the doors swing open to the sight of the long hall ending in ascending stairs and a massive double wide set of doors so reminiscent in the Citadel Council Chambers, he exhales a heavy breath to try and remind himself to be calm before starting to lead the way. "Let's get this over with."

"You sound like me," she replies with a chuckle, which he takes as at least one good sign.

They pass the duo of C-Sec and Commando guards on the way up the wide stairs, the two nodding in greeting. As Spectres, they have a lax restriction of where they can and can't go while boarded on the Destiny Ascension. It's not too smart an idea in his eyes considering a handful of their foes were either working for, with, or _were_ Spectres.

Of course, even a Councilor tried to assassinate his fellow Councilors, so it just goes to prove that all their efforts to remain guarded against assassination attempts is just a waste of resources when these very people standing around for 'security' could be helping to rebuild and reorganize a form of order, maybe even look into resettling the Citadel from whatever quarantine it seemed to be under.

Doors to admit them slide open to the sight of a projection of the human Admiral standing tall before the Council, hands held once again at his back and chin held high in determination. " _The Alliance sees this act against humanity as an open act of war. We cannot abide by the Hegemony seeing the weakened state of the Galaxy as a chance to move against the Alliance and, because of that, we are requesting Council aide."_

"Which we cannot provide," the asari Councilor interjects with a slight shake of her head. "I am sorry, Admiral."

The Dalatrass turned Councilor crosses her arms. "You said it yourself. The Galaxy is not in a state for another war. Least of all against an already weakened species such as the batarians."

"That's funny." Jane finally makes their presence known amongst the onlooking Spectres present. "Because I distinctly remember you being all for letting the krogan fight the war without the Cure, damning them to extinction when the Reapers wipe out large portions of their forces."

The woman at least has the decency to look affronted as the human Councilor speaks up. "Please, Councilors. There must be something we can do."

"As far as I'm concerned, I just see this as an attack against a single species," Octavia says, making Garrus shake his head. He once called this woman a friend not so long ago, before she became this blood thirsty politician?

"Should we go around you to the Primarch, _Councilor_?"

Her mandible twitches as she looks at him, eyes narrowing. She opens her mouth to speak when Councilor Irissa says, "Do not forget that you had launched an attack on a batarian vessel in retaliation without proof of it being involved, Spectre Vakarian."

"Like hell it wasn't!"

"Calm down, Spectre Shepard," Linron spits, her large black eyes shrinking in anger. "You have a reputation for being completely biased in all matters."

"You also forget 'diplomacy', the Spectres top priority," the turian Councilor agrees with a slight growl. "You both forget that."

Jane, not intimidated, crosses her arms with a cock of her hip and raised brow. "That's not how your top Spectre handled issues. Hell, Saren was _known_ for shooting first and asking questions later."

"Saren is undoubtedly the worst possible example, Shepard."

"On the contrary, Councilor Irissa. He was the only one ahead of the game, the first one to try to convince you of the issue. Had you listened to him, he wouldn't have gone rogue, wouldn't have committed the crimes he did, and we would have been prepared for the Reapers long before they arrived." Her green eyes scan the room before she looks to the Admiral. "But… That doesn't mean we should go to war. Look at the truth, Admiral, we are severely wounded from the war. Yeah, we'd probably wipe the floor with the Hegemony, but it would still cost us."

" _What would you suggest?"_

At that, she seems at a lost and Garrus decides to be there for her as he always has. It's not like she needs her hand held, as her kind likes to say, but sometimes she comes to him for a different view, a different set of eyes to see the situation. Stepping forward, he addresses the Council. "Bar them from access to Council resources."

"What?" The salarian Councilor's eyes widen before she starts to shake her head adamantly, looking to the others. "They can't possibly sustain themselves after their planet was nearly destroyed by the Reapers' assault."

"Spectre Vakarian," the woman he once knew quite intimately says as she looks to him. "Restricting Council aide to the Hegemony and batarian people would be condemning them to extinction."

" _The Alliance is already withdrawing all aide to the Hegemony refugees. We will not be responsible for aiding and abetting the enemy."_

"Please, Councilors," Osoba looks to his fellow Councilors, eyes pleading. "Don't turn away from humanity. Join together as we had during the war and we can limit the loss of human lives."

"In joining humanity, we would doom the Batarians to extinction." Dalatrass Linron seems oblivious to the hypocrisy of her own statement when she was adamant about letting the krogan fight their way into extinction in the Reaper War, but it doesn't get past Jane nor Garrus as she gives him a raised brow. "We must ensure the preservation of all species in the galactic community."

He can't take it anymore, growling slightly as he sees his wife rub her brow in a building, frustrated headache. "Yet, they aren't part of the galactic community, are they?" When he gets their attention, he nods and motions to the room of the fellow Spectres, their number too few after the massive and devastating war. "They have been banned from Council matters and an ambassadorial seat on the Citadel because they refuse to abide by Council laws concerning the _very_ same thing that they have done to a full vessel of human refugees. Humanity _is_ a part of the Council, dammit, and instead of the allegiance that should come with being a part of the 'galactic community', you are giving excuses why not to assist them. Have you forgotten what species lost their lives trying to defend your predecessors from Sovereign?"

He, at least, impresses his mate as he sees her smirk and give him a nod, but the Councilors remain impassive. _I tried._

It takes a few moments of the Councilors looking among themselves, a quiet conversation passing between their eyes and immobile lips. The Admiral looks the two Spectres over as the silence drags on, heavy and suffocating in the stale ship air, and Garrus can feel the scrutiny over what he must know is Jane's only show of loyalty to her people. He would have to for even the Normandy's crew knew the silent order that if they did not support the fact that there would be a war that the ship would not be involved in, then they should find themselves off the ship when she disembarks the Destiny Ascension.

"We have made a decision." All eyes look to the asari Councilor as Jane drops her arms from her chest and he pops his neck, ready and waiting for whatever idiotic plan they have come up with to solve this Galaxy altering problem. "Our people are unable to provide assistance in this matter."

The human Councilor drops his eyes, beaten and broken over being outnumbered and unheard as Councilor Linron speaks. "We will, however, send Spectres to try and alleviate the situation and to prevent a war."

"It is all we can offer the Alliance," Octavia adds as she glances to the projection of the Admiral, crossing her arms. "And I speak _for_ the Primarch."

 _Doubtful,_ Garrus thinks, but he wouldn't have thought of going to Adrien Victus anyway. The turian people have gone through enough and, though he doesn't necessarily hold much loyalty to Palaven, he would rather not the Hierarchy get involved in a war on humanity's behalf. If humanity must demand retribution for a single ship or refugees when they could spare a multitude of soldiers, then he will not force his good friend into making the decision of joining in the idiocy.

" _And the Spectres?_ " The question is loaded, no doubt, as everyone in the room knows, unfortunately, who said Spectres are. As if their luck could be any different.

"Spectres Vakarian and Shepard will attend a diplomatic meeting with an ambassador of the Hegemony and batarian people," Irissa says as she crosses her hands behind her back. "We will see to arranging the location of said negotiation."

Admiral Hackett's " _That will suffice_ " is anything _but_ an agreement as he never drops his stern, defensive posture. Upset or not, the man has nothing to complain about when it's Garrus and his mate going into the fire for his vendetta. They are, and have always been, the ones to clean up all the messes of those above in their chain of command and, frankly put, the thought of leaving it all behind to let people burn themselves out seems more and more appealing.

"Very well," Osoba practically sighs before looking up to the two Spectres below their pulpit. "Head to your ship and we will transmit the data immediately."

"If that's not a 'get the fuck out', I don't know what is," Jane huffs as she spins and almost storms from the large Chambers without a care for the looks of irritation, shock, and disinterest shared by the Councilors and Admiral that Garrus catches as he turns to follow.

Outside the Chambers , he hears her gloves creak as she fists her hands, boots stomping as she heads towards the elevator, grumbling, "Damn Council and sending us to clean up their fucking shit. They should get off their damn asses and stop treating humanity like the ugly step-child."

"The what?"

"Ugly step-"

"Shepard! Vakarian!"

Looking to the voice calling from behind, back towards the Council Chambers, they aren't quite sure what to make of Spectre Procris walking determinedly for them. Garrus can't imagine that the Council would waste the resources of a third Spectre on exporting them, but, then again, the Council is not known for their intelligence in matters. At least, not when the two of them are involved.

"Did the Council send you to babysit?" Jane asks with a tilt of her head and raised brow.

"No," the woman says as she looks between them both. "I came to insist that you take me with you."

He growls and narrows his eyes, unmoved by her unconvincing _attempt_ at requesting admittance on their ship. Especially after the stunt she pulled on the transport here and the clear threats on his family.

"Fuck you." He couldn't agree more with his wife in that moment as she crosses her arms and stares up at the woman clearly towering over her, unaffected by the change in height as she stands tall with sheer will. "Like hell I'm letting you on my ship _or_ near my children."

"I don't care about your _children_. I only want to prevent a damn war because I seem to be the only one that cares about your own damn people." She motions the Chambers. "I'm going on my own accord because you both have a way of pissing people off and that happens to be the _last_ thing we want."

"So you want to be the neutral party?" He has to admit, he's starting to see the logic behind her admittance into the 'negotiations' but he still has that burning hate for the woman. Not that she'd be much trouble on a ship full of loyal crew that would readily defend the twins should she ever give them the reason, alert he or Jane to any suspicion concerning her, but there's still the protectiveness ringing in his ears to make sure his family is as safe as they can be. "Why should we even trust you on our ship?"

"You really think I'd be stupid enough to try something on your ship? Please, I may not like you two personally, but I'm not stupid." She growls softly as she crosses her arms and shrugs. "Besides, you are at least back to doing your damn jobs, so I have no problem with you professionally."

Jane is quiet as her eyes look just beside the woman, focusing on her thoughts running through the scenario her brows lower just a fraction before green eyes turn back to the woman in question. He already sees her answer before she speaks and, against his instincts, sees the logic in it.

"Alright," his wife agrees with a huff of irritation. "I'm not going to pretend we like each other, but Garrus and I don't have the best track record with batarians, so even I can see how having a third party there can help. But here's the catch." She steps closer to the woman and jabs a finger onto the violet chestplate. " _You_ will be the one to make the deal, to 'represent the Council'. Understood?"

"No care for your people going to war, Shepard?" Procris asks as she attempts to swat at the hand in her space. "And here I thought you were the paragon of humanity. And, yet, here you are without a care…"

Jane snorts with a chuckle. "You thought wrong. I did what I did because I actually cared about if the galaxy was fucked over, but now? Now I don't give a shit whether you all destroy yourselves. Not after the shit fest you people put, and _keep_ putting, us through after everything we've done for you ungrateful assholes when all we wanted was a damn break."

"Spectres don't get 'breaks'," the woman growls with a flick of her mandibles. "You swore your services to the Council and galaxy, there is no 'retirement'."

"Then we'll be the first," Garrus growls back, stepping between the two women to add his own imposing height behind his mate's demands. "Your choice, Procris. You either refuse or agree."

" _And,"_ his mate adds. "You will be monitored while aboard our ship. You will not go alone anywhere except the shitter. And, even then, someone will stand outside the door for you to come out."

The turian woman growls as she stares them both down, mandibles and fists held tight in irritation and anger. "Fine," she practically spits. "I'll walk around like a damn hostage on your ship _and_ do _your_ jobs."

"Ah, come on, now. Just think of it as you serving the Council." Jane steps aside to let the woman head for the lift. "And hell, with you around to talk at the Hegemony ambassadors, we might actually prevent a war between fucking idiots."


	31. Chapter 31

Jane

When they receive word of where the Council managed to negotiation a meetings - why they couldn't just solve the problem then and there while they had the Hegemony on the comms, Jane will never know - she isn't all that surprised to hear that the only location that they could come to an agreement on is the Normandy's favorite station, the shithole that is Omega. With the batarians refusing to bring themselves into Council controlled territory for fear of a trap and the Council, for once, caring enough to not send them into the batarian home system, there was really no other place to go. It also wasn't like any planets within the Terminus would allow them to just waltz in for a peace talk while still rebuilding from the war, so Omega it is by process of elimination.

She couldn't tell if, by some supernatural force, Garrus somehow already knew they were destined for the station when he ordered Joker and Aelia to set course, but it saved them time they could have wasted sitting around in the Ascension's docks. As it was, they were already out of the Athena Nebula and on their way when the Council finally came through with their destination.

Now, the other matter that had to be taken care of was the third Spectre aboard the Normandy. Of everyone else, she was actually the only one they didn't trust with their personal matters. Hell, they even trusted _Harrot_ with walking in on them holding their children over the turian woman.

Why? Well, that was because Procris had already threatened the twins once, and that was already one too many times for her to get anything but an escort throughout the ship for the short duration of her stay.

Which actually seemed to be fine with her as she tended to stay within the War Room - _should it really be called that still?_ \- anyways, using their comms to look into some matters or another. What, in fact, she was doing, wasn't Jane's concern so long as Traynor, her unfortunate babysitter, didn't announce any suspicious behavior.

Jane admits that, though it wasn't her intention, putting the Spectre under the Comm Specialist's guard is the best idea she's had now that she sees where the woman spends most of her time. Hell, so long as Samantha continued to report that Procris was simply being alert to a mission of her own or checking in on Palaven - family, most like - then Jane was all for the woman having her time on the comms.

Her seclusion up on the second deck also gives Jane and Garrus the opportunity to get out of their Cabin and give their children some 'fresh air', so to speak. Being cooped up on a ship wasn't the ideal place for their twins, but neither was Earth with its ashy air and constant cold rain. It also wasn't like they _chose_ to be here on the Normandy, but at least they were in good company with their slowly building crew. Already, Jane could see loyalty growing among their newest crew members, even if it actually _her husband_ who was taking longer to come to trusting them.

Even if they didn't prove their loyalty to the two Spectres, she was sure they knew it was a damn stupid idea to get on their bad side. After all, the only man on their ship with that under his belt was forever walking around with half chopped off mandibles and the dark cloud of suspicion over his head. It didn't take a turian, in their knowledge of the old war punishment, to understand that the missing pieces and animosity from Garrus towards the other male was a warning against betrayal.

It's surprising to even herself that _she's_ the one acting as a buffer between the two, calm and understanding. She had always thought herself a short tempered, vindictive bitch, but she guesses she was wrong on that. Or, perhaps she has just gotten softer after losing so many people in the war, people that were fighting so the very people that are sending the Normandy across the galaxy could stay in their safe little bubble of ignorance.

While she may be throwing her hands in the air and giving up on any form of battle - physical or verbal - she knows that her husband has done the opposite and projected his anger outward, lashing out at those that wrong him, _them_. _Oh, how the shoe moved to the other foot over the years._

She chuckles at that, sitting between his legs on the floor of the Lounge with the children playing on the rug before her. Garrus stopping his hands where they hold strands on her hair to work them into a braid, he rumbles in question and glances down at her.

"Am I missing something?"

Still chuckling softly, she leans back against his hands in silent plea to continue as she answers, "I was just thinking about us, about how the years have changed us."

"I don't think it was the years so much as all that we've been through." His hands continue their intricate weaving and she wonders why he's always turned his interest in her red curls into learning ways in which to style it. _Probably because it lets him run his hands through it, play with it._

Shrugging, she wiggles her leg when Cassia crawls over it, making their daughter chirp and giggle as she holds on. "Maybe. Or maybe we haven't so much changed as we've _grown_." At his hum in thought, she gently squeezes his booted foot, patting it after. "You've grown harder over the years. I mean, you were always a hot-headed little shit." He snorts and shakes his foot under her palm in a mock attempt to get her to let go. "But now… it's almost like you have a direction for that fire. You do it for a reason."

"To protect my family," he says with a rumble, his talons sliding through the strands not weaved together. "And you have changed too. Having the kids has made you softer, more understanding." He huffs a chuckle. "Can't say I like it all too much when you talk me down from putting my fist through someone, but it reminds me of when we first met. You know when to channel your rage, when to control it… You'd make a great diplomat." Groaning at that, she hears him laugh softly and lean down to kiss the top of her head. "Well, maybe not politics for you. You still have a way of solving most things with violence."

"I don't _that_ much change."

"Sidonis? I distinctly remember you trying to strangle him or throw him over the railing when we found him."

"Oops?" Looking up to him, she smiles. "I just think I've come to terms with the fact that he's paying for his sins, that you don't need to look at him and see yourself looking down that scope a year ago. And that, by no means, means I want you to just forgive him without reason, I just want you not to threaten to slit his throat if he so much as breathes wrong."

He sighs and she knows that mandible flick is exasperation, as if she doesn't understand and, maybe, she doesn't. Not completely. She wasn't there on Omega, she doesn't know what Sidonis' betrayal did to him, but she knows that Garrus doesn't want to kill the man, even if it's not a noble reason like allowing redemption.

"Jane, I just don't like thinking of the fact that he's around my mate, my children. How can I expect his loyalty when he betrayed his own friends? Not _my_ team, but _his_ own friends and trusted companions?"

"I don't know, but you have to admit that he is already marked and will forever pay for that. You made sure that anyone who looks at him will see it. Give him the chance to earn at least some trust, even if it's just out on the battlefield."

She hears and sees his chest expand with a deep inhale, pulling back as he releases it long and steadily. "Fine," he nearly grinds out. "I will not attempt to strangle him every chance I get, but no promises."

"Good enough," she says with a smile as she bumps his leg with her shoulder.

No, they haven't really changed over the years, now that she thinks about it. She still remains his moral compass, leading his rage to a justifiable target, and he remains her guiding light, giving her hope and a reason to fight.

A loud squeal calls her attention down to the two babbling babies crawling over her legs, Damocles with his mouth around her boot lace and Cassia slapping her hands of the metal of her knee and shin. Jane chuckles and wiggles both legs, making the two giggle and try to catch her, clicking and purring. "Having fun?" Damocles is the first to look at her, reaching his hand over to grasp at the air in her direction. Smiling, she opens her arms in an usher to come to her. "Come on, big guy. Can you crawl to mommy?"

She hears the loving, tender purr from the man who gave her these gifts before her as he presses his mouth to the top of her head, hands done with her hair and now laying on her shoulders. Without him, his strength and guiding light through the hells they've been through, she wouldn't have the two little ones trying to climb up her legs to her.

Cassia uses her shirt to help climb to her feet and reach towards Garrus, who picks her up just in time for their son to stumble on his own climb to his feet. Jane smiles at his tiny hands pawing shirt and wraps her hands under his arms to help him stand, nuzzling her nose against his belly. "My big man almost has it, don't you?" He chirps and grins, squealing a bit to make her laugh softly, nibbling at his reaching fingers to make him laugh.

"Do you like mommy's hair?" she hears from behind and above her, feeling two hands - one tiny and one that feels ten times larger - lay on her scalp to slide over the intricate braid he has accomplished. "Mommy has beautiful hair, doesn't she?"

Jane snorts and looks up just in time to get a five fingered hand grip her nose. It tickles and she wiggles it for her daughter as she hears the doors to the Lounge open. Glancing over her mate's shoulder, she sees Bray roll all four eyes.

"Someone save me from this place," he sighs, exasperated. "And here I thought I might be able to keep my rations down this time."

Garrus chuckles and sits back to let Cassia sit in his lap, her hands playing with the snaps of his tunic. "If you're so distraught, I'm sure we can find you a nice lady to have your own children with."

Bray snorts and walks to the nearly empty bar, tsking at the lack of variety. "We need more alcohol." Grabbing a bottle of what looks like beer - probably cheap and barely passable if it's still left on the shelves - before coming to sit in the couch opposite them. "You won't find too many females outside of Hegemony space, so your offer is shit."

The turian rumbles behind her as she nods. "I've noticed that…"

"And you want to know why," Bray supplies and she sits back against the couch to hear what he has to say, a large turian leg on either side and a baby one trying to stand in her lap with the help of her hands. "It's because of batarian society. They are the lowest caste, the slave caste."

"All of your females?"

"Most of them. There are a select few in the higher families that are at least a higher caste - still nothing compared to men - but there's too many to actually take into consideration. No, most women are thought of as nothing besides breeders, and house workers when they aren't being raped." He sighs and opens his bottle, downing some of it with a grimace. "If a child is from a higher caste male, and male, then they are taken from their mother and raised by their all male family. If they are from a slave father, then they are also a slave."

"Damn. That's so fucked," she says more to herself than him, but he nods anyways.

Another drink, the cringe not as noticeable this time. "As Archangel already figured out, I was a slave, but at least I wasn't female or a mine worker. _Those_ lives were 'fucked'."

"What were you?" Her body mindlessly plays with the baby as she asks, legs bouncing him as her hands keep him upright in his chittering excitement. "I mean… if you're good with us knowing."

Shrugging, Bray leans back and crosses his feet at his ankles. "I was a pit fighter. Varren." He finishes off his beer and sets the bottle between the cushions so he won't have to hold it. "My father was one and I guess I looked good enough to be one too. I was pretty damn good too." He huffs a laugh and grins. "I guess I _had_ to be seeing as how I'm still alive."

If the situation of being a slave was bad enough, learning that females were used as nothing more than a living, breathing incubator and males were - as far as she knows - either forced to work in dangerous conditions in mines or put to fight vicious varren in a ring. She's damn sure there wasn't any sort of buffer between men like Bray and the claws and teeth of the beasts, so he deserves every bit of pride he has in his skills.

"Seeing as how you're here now, I take it you got out."

Bray chuckles and says, "Sure looks like it." He gets up and heads to both toss his empty bottle and grab another. "My 'master' at the time died and I was taken to Omega to sell on the market. Lucky me, there was an attempted escape that distracted everyone so _I_ could escape." There's a shrug as he tosses the cap in the disposal and returns. "Had to trick a few others into thinking I was getting them out when all I really wanted were decoys."

She shakes her head, not really upset in his brutal tactic, but not saying she would do that same as she was never in the situation. Whatever he had to do to get out, she can't say anything against as what she _is_ sure of is that people do all sorts of fucked up shit to save their own skin. She may not do it for herself, but she would for the three people in her life she gives a damn about. Hell, she _has_ sacrificed people for her husband without a second thought back when Toombs gave her the choice.

Still, she is curious. "How did you manage to work for Aria?"

A nod and smirk at catching that is what she gets as he takes a long drink. "I fought for her for a few years, showed her what I could do in the pits. Sure, she treated me like an attack dog for a while, but I eventually gained enough pull with her that she gave me a gun and a position in a different kind of pit.

"But there's a reason why I'm so open about this shit… and it isn't because I suddenly feel like it." He leans back, throwing an arm over the back of his couch. "I want in on this negotiation."

Garrus rumbles in question behind her and she can just imagine the incredulous look he gives the man. "You can't go into this shooting. That's our job."

She knows that actually translates to 'this kind of mission has to be handled with tact instead of gunfire' and, surprisingly, Bray seems to understand as he waves his hand. "I know that, Archangel. Not that I really believe it won't end up that way. I want in because I know the Hegemony better than anyone. If you don't want to fuck this up or get fucked, you'll take me."

Lifting a brow, Jane lets her tiring son down to sit in her lap and play with the sleeve of her shirt as she says, "What is your first suggestion? We need to start laying out a plan before we dock or we'll be walking in with our asses hanging out."

Bray smirks and leans forward, elbows on his knees. "Oh, I got _plenty_ of ideas. Let's start right here, right now."


	32. Chapter 32

Garrus

"Alright, here's what we got," his wife starts, leaning on the conference table of a room that they really have no use for now that the war doesn't call for a meeting between dignitaries. For now until they find out something to do with the room, it is used as the debriefing room for missions involving the entire crew like this one. "Garrus, Procris, and I are going to this pointless meeting with the batarians. Bray will go with us as the best thing we have to read these bastards and the situation."

"We suspect that the batarians are going to try to sell the human refugees in order to claim innocence," he takes up when everyone nods at the plan so far. "That's why we need a team to record evidence, record the auctions so that the Alliance can correlate what we find with the missing human reports."

Some of their human crew frowns and James ducks his head with a 'damn' at what Garrus isn't saying, but merely implying. An implication that makes Kaidan's eyes widen. "Wait… we aren't saving them? We're just supposed to stand by while our last chance to save them slips through our fingers?" His voice raises with each word, hands moving in the air. "Are you insane?"

"And what do you say we should do, Kaidan?" Jane narrows her eyes at him, pushing off the table. "Do you have spare credits lying around we can just toss at buying a vessel worth of human slaves?"

"It's better than leaving them to slavers!"

"Commander Shepard is right," Procris says with a rumble and crosses of her arms behind her back.

"I'm not really a Command-"

Alenko slams his fists on the table, demanding of the turian woman. "What would you know?! You are just here so the Council doesn't have to help!"

"Hey, man. Lola and Scars would help if they could-"

"No," the former biotic disagrees with a slight shake of his head, defeated with a guaranteed headache starting between his temples if the rubbing there is any indication. "No, I don't think they would… What do you need us to do?"

His quick dismissal of the subject makes Garrus' hide itch with suspicion and he looks to his mate with a questioning rumble, but if she hears it, she doesn't speak on it. Instead, she continues to explain. "Kaidan, you and Vega will go with Sidonis to the auction grounds. He knows Omega, so he'll know the best place to find the Hegemony sales." She looks to the man in question, raising a brow at the young turian male. "Right?"

Lantar nods and clears his throat. "Yeah. I can remember the locations they chose. It'll only take a few moments to figure out which one they're using this time."

"Head out now to get word," Garrus says, knowing what the man means in 'figuring out'. Omega runs on word of mouth and, if there was one thing he tried to teach the team following him, it was how to be at the right places to listen in on these conversations without anyone noticing. Out of everyone, Sidonis was one of the best students thanks to his years spent growing up on the station. "We want you at the auctions to get as much evidence as you can. And." He looks to the two human men. "It goes without saying that you better keep a low profile."

Alenko takes the order too seriously, still not used to Archangel taking control of the situation, but James cools the older man down with a light bump of his shoulder. "Aye, aye, Capi-tan," he jokes with a mock salute and motions his head to the door. "Come on Twitch, lead the way." With a heavy pat on Kaidan's back, he calms the situation and, subtly, ushers the Major out behind Sidonis.

Juna Procris waits until they are out of hearing range before turning to him and his wife. "Does insubordination run rampant on your ship?"

"Like scale itch," Jane snaps back without pause, tapping her fingers and looking to the last member of the crew without a duty.

Feeling the look, Rym nods at the acknowledgement of conversation that has, until now, forgotten about her. "What about me?"

"I need someone watching the ship, protecting it. If it goes to shit - which it will - we need to make sure our way out is covered. EDI has to have measures to lock down the ship should someone try to take it and you're the only one that can get in there and pull out that programming."

"Will I _ever_ see combat?" She huffs, affronted. "You take the batarian and turians."

Snorting, the redhead stands up and nods. "We've only been on the ground for a few times. Despite seeing your better potential with EDI, I know the itch of needing to fight, but I need you to watch the ship. Should they blow their way in, you're our last defense. Trust me, Rym. We don't lack for fights."

"You shouldn't look for fights, anyways-"

"Shut it, turian," Rym snaps at the Spectre before looking to Jane. "Next mission," she demands without any real bite, her respect earned long ago for the ones that technically saved her species from extinction. "I'll hold you to that."

With that, she leaves. Garrus knows she plans to suit up in case of trouble, her combat shotgun slung onto her back beside the hunk of metal she's fashioned into a basic club for 'when things get too complicated for gunfire', as she explains. Thinking about that, he isn't sure with is more frightening, a charging krogan or one with a blunt weapon in their hands.

He's always enjoyed having the brute force and energy of a krogan aboard and sometimes wonders how, knowing her own affinity for their people, Jane never found herself a krogan for the team during their last fight against the Reapers. Just the thought of how well he gets along with his people's supposed enemy is just one more reason he considers himself a 'bad turian', but if being a good one means not taking pleasure in this life that always has its twists and turns, then he doesn't want to be of the norm.

The norm being the woman in the room that wears an irritated scowl, her mandibles pulled tight as if she's tasted something bitter. After living the life he has, he sees just how blind those in the majority of his people are with their strict rules and guidelines. They are unmoving, unseeing and, as a result, often thought of as rebels, outcasts.

It is turians that are willing to change, open up, that have helped them more than the entire Hierarchy as a whole. If not for Adrien Victus already being as unorthodox as he is even before their meeting, Garrus doesn't think they'd have won the war as a united force with the turian fleet assisting the Alliance and ground forces fighting alongside the krogan.

"Why didn't you let me in on the plan until now?" Juna asks with a huff and growl. "For all the _help_ you want me to give, you've already been keeping me in the dark."

"That was because we didn't come up with anything until about an hour ago," Jane explains with a matching pose of her arms crossed and hip cocked.

"You included the batarian-"

"His name is Bray-"

"Let's not get me involved," the man in question says with a smirk and lean against the wall in order to watch it all play out. "And this needs more hair and mandible pulling."

Procris' eyes narrow at his levity as Garrus growls to get them all back on track. "Bray knows the batarian people better than all of us. If not for him, we wouldn't know a damn thing about the situation. One that we'd _tell you_ if you would close your damn mouth and shut up."

Jane waves all of it off, retaking control of the situation. "We're on the clock, people. Shut up and let me speak." Leaning to the table, she jabs her finger onto the surface as she speaks. "We are looking at a small group of ambassadors for the Hegemony. They're too chicken shit to actually have their leaders there. And there's a very big possibility that they'll have some slaves with them to 'show off', as Bray puts it, so don't get your panties in a twist when we see them.

"This is also a race thing going on," she continues with a sigh. "And they are going to bring up something that still hasn't seen a proper solution." Procris raises a brow plate and drops her hands to hear this. "I destroyed a Relay and killed three hundred thousand batarians."

"What?" The shock stops the Spectre from saying anything else and Jane rubs her brows in frustration at having to explain this all over again after a countless number of times on Earth.

It's why Garrus decides to take the responsibility she has denied him since the beginning, even if he can't outright say it was he who pressed the command to send the asteroid into the Relay. "I was with her, there was no other choice. The Alpha Relay would have been the Reapers' gateway to the rest of the galaxy. Its destruction gave us six months to prepare."

"They don't see it that way."

"Is that another reason why you brought me along? To be your buffer?" The woman sighs as she turns and walks to the wall, growling as she comes back. "I am only here to convince them not to do this or they lose all support from the Council, _not_ to stop a war between your people. That will be your responsibility."

"Fine."

* * *

 

Why the Council would agree to sending them to a seedy batarian restaurant well-known for its shady and 'secret' association with the slave trade has to be one of the stupidest ideas the dignitaries have ever had. It's also just one more thing he takes a mental note of to justify his ever present distaste and hatred for the self-righteous _irrumators_. Not that he needs any more reason to have the Council on what Jane refers to as his 'shit list'.

Just being here has him on his guard, hands itching at his rifle or blade at his hip. They are in enemy territory, just the four of them against a district of batarian refugees that could remain loyal to the Hegemony should there come trouble. That added to the natural Omega element combine into a burning of paranoia and sense of urgency for a fight in his bones, scratching at his skull.

"This is fucked," Jane says as she fidgets on her feet, just as worked up from their surroundings as he is. "We should just let humanity rot. Screw the Council's orders."

"You don't mean that," Procris practically demands as she waves at the smoke wafting into her nose from Bray's relieved puff of his cigarette. "Do you _have_ to do that right now?"

"Yep," is all the answer she gets before he continues with another deep inhale, eyes closing at the first cigarette in a long time since better sense speaks against smoking aboard the Normandy.

The female moves to speak, scowling, when Garrus interrupts. "All of you, quiet." He looks to his mate. "Do you want to turn back?"

He would follow her every whim, even if it put them in a dangerous situation. Why? Because these _are_ still her people and only she knows what she is and isn't willing to do for them. Were it him, he'd walk away and damn humanity, but what if it was his own species? Then he wouldn't be sure whether or not he'd at least _try_ to help prevent a war, a war that she knows feels guilty for thanks to their association with the Bahak systems' destruction.

And he knows she feels responsible for it, even if she doesn't verbally say it. As cold as she may seem and act, she isn't blind to the bigger picture of her actions. Both during and after the war, they all saw the effect of it on all species and, of all, the batarians were on the verge of extinction.

She was trying to stop their idiocy from killing them. Whatever strife there was between humanity and the batarians existed, it was time to stop before any more lives could be lost. If there was anything her fight during the war taught him about her, it was that her ultimate goal was to preserve as many lives as possible. Every choice she made, even if a cruel action, had the same ultimate goal.

It is why he isn't surprised to see her sigh and lay a hand on her temple, deciding. "No. We can't give up. If we walk away, then we guarantee a war."

"You really expect trouble?" Procris looks between them, laying a hand on her gun. "At a peace negotiation?"

"Spend enough time with us and even a trip to a sushi restaurant ends up in a fight," he responds as he lays a hand on his mate's shoulder, rumbling. "I won't think any less of you, Jane. You don't owe the Alliance anything."

"I owe humanity the chance for peace and the batarians a chance at continued existence."

Bray snorts. "Don't get yourself into _that_ shitstorm of responsibility. If they want to fuck themselves, I say let them. Ain't going to be anyone to blame but them."

"He's right. Don't consider this a suicide mission. We've had enough of those," Garrus agrees, much to the displeasure of Juna that he ignores.

Yet, despite it all, Jane shakes her head with a long breath. "Let's go. Just be ready for a fight."

Sometimes his wife can be a stubborn fool, unwilling to be convinced. It is a fight he cannot possibly win without putting himself in her shoes, and he doesn't quite know what he'd do if it were his people that could go into a war to lose more soldiers innocent of the decision.

All he can do is be ready to pull his weapon at the first sign of trouble and have her six. At least with their modified reflexes, they will be able to react faster than their enemy will expect.

Procris, at least, leads the way into the building, dark and smelling strongly of spices that burn the nose. Jane follows with Garrus at her back and Bray taking up the rear. The building is lit with low hanging lamps and tabletop lanterns, the near black lighting revealing no one mingling at the tables or on the floor. Instead, their only hosts are what has to be the ambassador and his entourage, the total in numbers coming out to seven.

Positioned to the far wall, a single, rounded batarian in elegant, long robes sits with two, smaller forms beside him and two guards before and behind. Even in the low light, Garrus can pick up the feminine forms of the fawning slaves, their bare breasts draped by a beaded neck collar that flows over their shoulders and round hips covered in a thin shawl. Never had he seen a female before - at least, not that he knows of - but he doesn't let his shock show in his features like Bray doesn't, the man scowling deeply.

"Expecting trouble?" Jane motions the guards outnumbering them. "Not very convincing that you want to negotiate."

"Does it make you uncomfortable, Commander?" He asks with wispy voice, almost feminine. Is this what the highest of the Hegemony sound like? Perhaps the elements cause the harsh tones, the raspy drag of their voice? Whatever it is, it almost seems like the vocals could come from two different species. "It pays to always be cautious when faced with the Butcher of Bahak."

"That was a mercy to what the Reapers would have done-"

The turian Spectre raises her hand with a glance towards Jane. "Please, Commander Shepard." She looks to the Hegemony ambassador. "Hostility will get us nowhere."

"Smart for being an outsider to these negotiations. Why are you here?" the fatter man caresses the shoulder of the woman sitting on his lap, the other leaning against his leg. It makes Garrus sick and his wife quietly clench her fists, Bray popping his knuckles behind their backs. Only Procris seems unaffected. "I am also wondering why one of our own would ally himself with the very woman that seems so intent on killing our entire species in fell swoops."

"She has great benefits-"

"His attendance is not in question," Spectre Procris brings the attention back to herself. "I am a representative for the Council. I am here to act as a neutral party in these matters."

"Yet you arrive with them."

"To ensure they attend." Lie or not, it convinces the man as he nods and motions the girl off his lap and to the floor beside his feet. "Now, shall we begin? What do you say to the Alliance's accusation of your ship, the _Reaver_ , taking human refugees prisoner?"

"I know of no such thing. After all, the _Reaver_ could easily have been working alone and lying so you would spare their lives. Lives that were taken when their ship was destroyed." He leans back with a heavy sigh of breath from weighed down lungs and says, "You're doing, I have no doubt.

"Honestly, you are trusting their word when it is obvious that the Commander already has a vendetta against the batarian people. Humanity has yet to assign reparations for Commander Shepard's massacre of three hundred thousand lives." He snorts and chuckles. "And _humanity_ is the one wanting war?"

" _Humanity_ also defended what was left of your fleet in the war," Garrus interrupts with a growl. "Without joining their united forces, your people would have been wiped out. Don't take them down that path, anyways."

"Humanity is willing to negotiate peace under the supervision of the Council," Procris crosses her arms behind her back. "All it takes is the return of the refugees from the _SSV Mirage_."

"We expect to be given reparations for the Alpha Relay's destruction," he says as he rubs his chin, Jane's eyes closing in exasperation at the insistence of bringing up what happened to aid is saving the galaxy. "If the Council agrees to oversee our demands concerning the loss of those lives in a neutral environment under Council supervision, then we will return the humans."

The woman's head ducks respectfully as she rumbles in thanks for agreeing. "You have saved many lives, sir."

"If you would do us the honor," the man says as he motions at one of the women at his feet, she taking a datapad at the wave of his hand and walking towards them. "I believe it is better than we have a written agreement between us. It would make everything much easier for every side involved."

The female Spectre nods and steps forward, taking the datapad from the slave that kneels before her, below the eyes of 'the Masters'. As Procris looks over the datapad, checking the details with a hum, the slave begins to sign out a mantra that doesn't translate. Long, lulling notes round sharp hitches of words and Garrus looks first to his wife in question before the only batarian he trusts, seeing the man's four eyes widen.

Just as he opens his mouth to ask what's wrong, demand it, Bray shouts, "Run! Move!"

Conditioned through years to just trust in instinct and not question, Garrus' body snaps into overdrive at the same time he feels his mate's own form snap around. He doesn't hear Procris move, doesn't see her at his side, but he can't focus on her now, just making sure he is two steps behind his wife to protect her against whatever may hit them in the back.

They manage to reach the forward room of the building when his ears hear the deafening blast and he feels the burning heat against the back of his fringe and heat and the force of the explosion at his back. From there, everything turns to black.


	33. Chapter 33

Jane

An ear piercing ring is the first thing that comes into existence as she groans, slowly coming to consciousness. At first, the haze is heavy in her head from the blast, but, with a sudden recognition of the shitstorm they were just in, her eyes snap open.

 _Shit!_ She thinks as she sits up, the soreness being overridden by adrenaline and awareness, to search the destruction zone. _Where's Garrus?!_

Eyes search the fiery rubble of what was once probably the worst and shittiest restaurant in all of Omega, scanning for a massive turian in jet black and blood red armor. Smoke billows from a pile broken rebar and crumbled cement that had to have become the tomb of the negotiation's batarian party, there being _no_ the fat fuck running the show could have moved as fast as the Normandy crew.

"Garrus! Get your ass out here!" She commands as she pulls herself to her feet, coughing out some of the thick dust from her throat.

"Calm down, woman," Bray says as he pushes a tattered fabric off him, the thick fabric that covering the windows that blocked out nearly all light. "No way Archangel would go down so easy."

She narrows her eyes and is about to rip into the batarian for calling out, on Omega no less, her husband's vigilante moniker when she hears the rubble shift. A smirk spreads her lips before she even has to look, knowing that Bray is right. After all they've been through, there is no way in hell that a little explosion like that would take Garrus down.

From the billow of smoke and flames at his back, Garrus steps into view with an indignant look on his facets he looks over his shoulders. "What's with every restaurant we go to bursting into explosions or gunfire?" She chuckles and, just for making her worry, punches him in the shoulder when he joins them He rubs it with a mock hiss of pain. "I could always go back into the pile of rubble if that's how you'll greet me."

"I ought to shove my foot up your ass for making me worry about your ass," she responds, eyes returning to the destroyed building for their missing party. "Where's Procris?"

"You mean the bitch?" They both look to Bray with raised brows and he lifts his hands in an innocent shrug. "What?"

This can't be good. With no sign of the Spectre, a Spectre that the Council sent with them to cover the politicians' asses, there could be a much worse outcome than the war the Alliance was already threatening. True, she was a bitch, but even Jane knows personal shit takes a back seat to their jobs and, in this instance, it's better if they find the woman alive with merely bruises and scrapes.

Not that they would be so lucky.

It isn't until her eyes land on the color violet that she knows the situation with concerning this war just got a hell of a lot more complicated. Running towards the woman's limp body, Jane slides to her knees and shoves pieces of concrete and broken wood from the furniture away and off Procris' body.

"Shit, shit, shit," she curses over and over at the shit lick they always seem to have. She isn't sure what will happen, but she's pretty sure 'Sorry, Councilors, but we got _another_ one of your Spectres killed. Bet you wish it was us off your backs, huh?' was going to go over that well.

Even before she gets all of the rubble off the woman, her instincts tell her what her mind is too focused on the implications of this to realize. Aside from the burns that cover face and seared through the weave of undersuit uncovered by armor, the Spectre's neck is twisted in an angle that Jane can't describe as anything but _wrong_.

Exhaling heavily, she reaches out to close the woman's eyes. Like her or not, her death could have been avoided had the Council stepped in with more than a 'let's send Spectres to have a civil conversation with some of the least civil people when concerning humanity'. It was just another avoidable death, bitch or not.

 _Then there's the question of what this will mean for the war_ , she thinks. She knows that this only justifies the Alliance's call for war, but will the death of a Spectre be the kick in the ass the Council wants to join or will it just be brushed off, in whatever way the bastards will find to avoid having to _do_ anything.

She isn't really sure whether including the galactic community in this little disagreement is necessarily the right thing to do. Hell, Garrus had the best damn idea she's heard of the situation, lock the assholes into their own system and kick them out of any galactic interaction. Harsh? Maybe, but better than losing more lives in a war just after the biggest war the Galaxy has ever seen.

"Fucking shit," she reiterates as she looks up from the dead Spectre. "This doesn't bode well."

Just as Garrus opens his mouth to speak, they all hear the easily recognizable 'fwoop' of a launched grenade. There is just enough time for her to spit out an expletive before jumping into cover behind a fallen strut of the restaurant, rolling unceremoniously into her husband's solid weight just as the heat and force of the explosion erupts from where they just were.

 _So much for the moment of peace to consider what to do with Procris_. Looking to their left, she catches their third behind the metal structure of a once-there bench seat as he spits out his bent and ruined cigarette with a scowl. A glance to her husband sees him in the last moment before he climbs up and through a destroyed wall to the next level of the adjacent building, the Archangel finding his perch.

"Well, well, well." She knows that voice, but quite place it as she stands up, back to her cover as she whips out her weapon. "Imagine my surprise when I hear that Commander Shepard and Archangel are in my district!" Peeking around the corner, she mouths an exasperated curse when she sees the bright blue and white armor of Blue Suns at the hands of none other than Vosque, the man who ordered their location be revealed to the Alliance. "And then this little explosion leads me right to you!"

"Afraid you missed out on the fun." _How many?_

**_Twenty._ **

_Just fan-fucking-tastic._

"Oh," Vosque says as he motions to his men to spread out and cover any way forward. "The fun is just beginning. Just imagine the power I'll have when I carry the heads of both the scourge of Omega _and_ Commander Fucking Shepard."

 _Do you have a shot on him?_ Her answer comes in a loud boom of his weapon, a quick glance revealing the drop of the heavy armed with the grenade launcher.

All boasting or conversation goes out the window with that, all assumed traitorous Blue Suns opening fire at the shouted order of their commander. She can't stop and consider just how many of the mercenaries they may have to face fighting through the station back to the Normandy with in the battle, not when there isn't much cover against their enemy now fanning out across the field.

Sending a Dominate into the crowd and catching at least two, an engineer among them, she accesses her comm at the same time that she gives Bray the signal to throw his shrapnel grenades into the fray. "Normandy. Come in!"

" _Hey, Shepard. So, how's the talks going?"_

"Not now, Joker. Alert the auction crew to book it back to the ship. We'll be coming in hot." She sees a man coming around her cover disappear in a splatter of blood and chunks and flicks a finger up at her mate in response to the pieces that land on her armor with a wet splat. "I repeat, we got Blue Suns on our asses."

" _Blue Suns? Aren't we friends with their overlord or something?"_

 _"_ Mercenaries always have loose loyalties," Garrus says over the comm as another shot echoes from his perch.

The comms go silent as the pilot alerts the crew and leaves their group to the fight. Rounding her cover, Jane flares blue and starts to run, jumping over a fallen concrete beam before charging into a merc armed with a flamethrower. The force of her biotics knocks him back and gives her the opportunity to punch him directly between the eyes to the sharp sound of a crack.

Throwing the body into a group, she doesn't have to speak - or think - an order for Garrus already reads her actions, firing at the pressurized tank on the body's back just as it slides to the feet of a heavy armored and shielded duo. Their screams are sweet and their panic gives her the perfect opening to dive into cover before gunfire digs into the ground where her feet just stood.

"You can't win, Shepard! Kill me and more will be in my place!" _Will someone shut this guy up?_ "You may have tricked Reguix, but not me! I will return the Blue Suns to our previous glory!"

At his bold claim, the heavy machine fire of a heavy mech buries itself into her cover, sending bits and puffs of concrete over her head. So far, her cover is holding, but she's in the middle of the field with Garrus and Bray cleaning up her sides and, as she's come to find out, mech's have a way of just walking right into fire and not giving two shits.

"You're in the middle of it, Shepard," Bray, helpful as always, says just before one of his grenades sends shards of metal and shrapnel into a trio of mercs, cutting through one's shielding and immediately killing him while crippling the others.

She peeks out and shoots one of them in the back to drop him just as Bray takes out the other with a charged shot from his shotgun. Garrus, she knows, focuses his attentions on whittling down the mech's armor before it reaches her position and, when trio is down, she turns on the mech to suck power from it with her biotics when she sees just what _kind_ of mech they're facing.

"Since when did they get a fucking Atlas?!"

Vosque laughs maniacally as he uses the Atlas to shield him, his own weapon launching grenades into the battlefield. Frustrated at the whole clusterfuck of a situation, Jane can't help her heavy sigh as she wipes away the sweat cutting sweeps through the soot over her forehead.

"Of course they have a mech," she whispers as she flares blue enough to send a controlling ball of energy into the heavily armed mercenary closest to the mech, turning their own against them to weaken its defenses.

Thinking about it, it shouldn't be too surprising that, after Cerberus' occupation of the station, the ramble and scum of Omega would find and begin to use what was left to their advantage. Rym had done it when she was fighting off the Blood Pack, so why wouldn't the Blue Suns or even Eclipse do it? _You think Aria would have done a better job cleaning up._

**_That would take actually_ ** **doing** **_something._ **

She chuckles at her mate's comment on the situation and checks the field. So far, Vosque hasn't given any of them a shot - and by any, she really means Garrus as she doesn't want that grenade launcher any closer to her position - and his men are swindling, but they can't get past the damn mech to get to him.

 _Wait… Get_ past _the mech…_

 ** _You're going to do something crazy, aren't you?_** Connection as odd as it is, his perfect headshot doesn't even falter as he communicates to her mid-shot.

 _Just you wait,_ is all she gives him before collecting all her energy and rolling her shoulders in preparation. Then, in one fluid movement that she knows will be hard for the mech to track just on its sheer unexpected stupidity, she rounds the corner and starts sprinting, thrusting herself biotically across the field.

No time to think - and no time to imagine what curses her husband is making at her recklessness - she drops to her hip to slide and ignores the ear splitting and heart-breaking screech of her armor scraping against the concrete. The slide sends her between the legs of the mech with just enough room to feel the whip of air that blows the stray strands of her hair from the speed of sliding under the Atlas' undercarriage.

Her victory is short lived, however, as Vosque seems to have _predicted_ what she had planned - however unbelievable that is - and targets her, finger on the trigger before she can raise her own weapon. "Not so fast, sweetheart," he purrs with a smirk. "As if my day couldn't get any better, you practically slide into my lap."

**_Give me a shot and I'll drop the bastard._ **

Raising her hands, Jane slowly gets to her feet. All she has to do is get him talking, comfortable, and moving into the sniper's line of sight. Her only problem in that is the massive Atlas blocking her path. _Maybe not my brightest of moments._

**_Not really. No._ **

"I don't know what you did to trick Reguix into working with you, but that ends now," he says as he motions with his weapon, pointing it as if it's a toy. "I should have ended you myself instead of trusting in Boothe to get the job done."

"But then you wouldn't have the fun of showing us all your new toys," she responds as she hears the Atlas continuing into the field, trying to flush out her team, and Bray's returning fire. Wherever it is, that damn mech _has_ to be close to going down.

Vosque snorts dismissively before smirking, a gesture that makes her skin itch at the thought of the man's eyes boring through her armor. "I got something to show you. I _could_ take your head, or I could take you as my _special_ guest."

"Show me? You'd need a magnifier on your Tool… Hell, I bet mine's bigger." He scowls and swings the gun, hitting her across the face hard enough that she tastes blood, but it only makes her smirk and chuckle. "Aw, come on. I hear dick envy is a common problem."

"Shut up! I should kill you here in front of your mate, you bitch. I bet killing you in front of him is worse than death for Archangel." He looks around, gripping his weapon and easily projecting his obvious unease in his men being wiped out so efficiently. "Isn't it, Archangel?!"

"You might have to talk louder. He's a bit deaf."

"What do you even see in that _turian_? Sleeping with an alien…"

She rolls her eyes and challenges, "Says the man that wanted me to tell Aria she owed him a fuck."

"That's different!" He jabs the weapon at her, his frustration and anger blinding him to the way the Atlas is beginning to stutter and fall, opening Garrus' sights. After all, even Vosque's attempt to use her as a shield is a bad one seeing as how she's much shorter than the man, coming in handy for one of the few times she'd ever acknowledge her less than threatening stature. "Turians don't even _look_ human! The can't be trusted, and you're sleeping with one! Even in the war, you were whoring out to the turians, setting up deals with all of them. Were you fucking them too?"

Jane shrugs as she feels more than hears the growl of her mate, feeling his building rage and tension at the man's words. They may roll off her, but Garrus has always had a special kind of anger towards anyone that insulted her choice of mate or his in her.

"What can I say?" She distracts as Bray alerts over the comm that the Atlas is down, its pilot dead. "They are a hell of a good fuck. Put humans to shame."

That sneer returns, made all the worse by the sweat beading over his forehead. "What do you say I show you what a real man can do?"

 ** _I'm taking the shot._** At that, she smirks and decides that the fun and games are over, there no longer a reason to play the coy flirting wrapped around insults.

"What do I say?" She sees the perfect hole of red between the eyes and flowering of flesh and blood out of the back of the man's skull before she even hears the loud boom of Garrus rifle. "Go to hell."


	34. Chapter 34

Jane

Getting back to the Normandy was void of any resistance beyond the occasional Blue Suns patrol that they either got the slip on or outright avoided and that just made her all the more suspicious. The three of them were on edge, ready for the next big fight, all the way to the Normandy's airlock and, when they arrived, all Jane could think of was that a whole battalion waiting just beyond the heavy, space-worthy doors.

Yet, they would have been alerted, even if subtly, about a waiting ambush aboard the ship. With how many of their men waiting for their return and guarding the Normandy, there is no way the Blue Suns made it into the ship to await the three of them without a full army. If her crew could handle the war at her back, then she has confidence that they did not fall so easily to the mercs.

Maybe this was just an attempt of traitors within the mercenary company as it seemed. If so, what did that mean for their friend and his leadership of the entirety of the Blue Suns? Did they, once again, have enemies in the mercs? Not that it'd surprise her if someone attempts to go around their supposed leader Arcanus for control. Loyalties of mercenaries tended to change from one breath to the next. _It might be time to send a message along to make sure the old bastard is okay._

Giving Garrus a quick jerk of her hand to their six and Bray a jab towards the doors, she raises her weapon. Closing in on the airlock controls with her Claymore leading, she calls out to the crew with her comm. "Normandy. Report."

" _Everything is clear on our end. What the hell lit a fire under your asses?"_

"Not now, Joker." She presses her back to the door and waits for Garrus to take cover beside her before Bray leans over to hit the 'open' command. "We're coming in," she alerts as the interface swirls and changes from red to green.

" _Brace yourselves,_ " the pilot deadpans as she snaps around cover and into the airlock. _So far, so good,_ she thinks at the lack of ambush within the airlock and motions the other two forward.

The three of them take the same cover positions as before, for once taking things steady and safe after the shit they've already been through. She hits the command once the airlock decontaminates and spins into cover with the Normandy's first and so far only batarian as Garrus takes the lead, rounding the corner with his weapon raised.

"Hey! Calm down, Scars!" James throws his hands up in surrender to the massive sniper rifle from where he waits just within the airlock, clear shock in his eyes. He glances over the turian's shoulder to her. "Did I do something I don't know about?"

Bray snorts as Garrus swings his weapon around to scan the CIC and cockpit, stepping aside to allow them past the airlock doors. Instead of answer the N-trainee, she pats his shoulder hard in 'explain later' as she storms to the cockpit, ready to give the orders to get them off and out of this damn station before whatever remains of Vosque's Blue Suns regroups and heads here.

Why they hadn't managed to find the Normandy, she doesn't exactly know, but she has to guess it might have to do with Omega's reigning queen. She probably has the Normandy's location hidden in attempt to limit the amount of damage the Vakarian duo would do to her station, this _supposedly_ supposed to just be talks between themselves and the Hegemony ambassadors. Hell of a lot of good it did.

Also a hell of a good reason for Aria to be pretty pissed when she finds out about their explosion and ensuing firefight down in that district.

"Joker. Victus," she says without even holstering her weapon. "Seeing Vega aboard, I assume everyone's here?" She looks between them and gets a quick nod, the pilot and his new co-pilot's hands flying over their terminals as if they expect her neck order even before she says, "Get the engines hot and this ship off Omega and out of the system. We don't want Aria to shoot us out of the damn sky once she finds out how we left her station."

The two pilots nod and Aelia Victus alerts the engineering crew of their rushes departure. Jane doesn't stick around to listen to the specifics, however, as she starts to walk down the ramp towards the CIC, still spouting orders.

"Someone get Traynor to open a comm to the Ascension," she all but shouts, storming down the ramp. "Auction team, I want reports _before_ the Council picks up. I want to know what the hell happened and what you found out." Exiting the long hall that connects cockpit and CIC, she moves to round the Galaxy Map. "I want the Normandy silent. We don't know if the Blue Suns have ships in the area-"

"Blue Suns?" Kaidan's voice comes from behind her as she plots coordinates into the Map for anywhere but here. "What does this has to do with the Blue Suns?"

 _Fuck it. We're going to Earth. There'll be a war between the Alliance and batarians and I need my men focused on_ my _missions, not the situation back home._

"Shepard?" he asks again. "What about the Suns?"

Plot to Earth chosen, she moves to turn and answer. "The Blue Suns have traitors among their numbers. They tried to kill - Who the hell are you?"

Coming up short to the face of some completely out of place human woman and child wasn't really something that Jane expected to happen after all that's transpired today. Sure, seeing humans wasn't really all that odd given that all she had to do would be look in the mirror, but the whole 'on my ship' thing was what was really throwing her for a loop. _How the hell did a kid and her mom get on the Normandy?_

The woman ducks her dirt covered face, giving Jane the sight of nothing but her brown tangles, and tries to speak. Not much comes from her as her hands on the girl's shoulders, a motherly defense if Jane ever saw one.

Seeing the woman's nerves taking root, Kaidan steps up and creates a wall between the two women, one in armor and the other with barely more than a tattered refugee's overalls. _She's a refugee… from the auction._ As if hearing her inner thoughts, or perhaps seeing the recognition in her eyes, he speaks. "Shepard. This is Rosaline and her daughter Celeste."

"Where did they come from?" Garrus' voice and feet seem to echo off the metal walls of the CIC as he rounds the Galaxy Map with James at his back. She knows he has already put two and two together, that this is just a ruse, but she also knows this is to get Kaidan to say it himself before all sorts of hell unleashes.

At least, she hopes, the man will keep it reined in until the two strangers are off this Deck and out of his wrath's way. Maybe the father in him will see the necessity of limiting violence in front of the child, possible burden on the Normandy or not.

She, on the other hand, isn't upset before the explanation like her mate is. She is willing to hear the Major's reasoning before 'reminding' him of her order to keep a low profile. Low, as in _not_ bringing attention to themselves.

"I think that's pretty obvious, Garrus," Kaidan says as he crosses his arms. "They're from the auction."

At her mate's low growl, his anger at the blatant disregard building - and he says he's a bad turian and can't follow orders - she looks to James and cuts through the tension. "James? Can you take…" She looks to Kaidan for the names again.

"Rosaline and Celeste."

"Yeah," she agrees and jerks her head to the lift in silent request to get them out of here before her turian husband releases Archangel. Justice driven or not, the man definitely doesn't have a way with using words instead of action, which is saying something when she thought _she_ was more a shower than talker.

Smarter than he lets on, Vega nods and approaches. "Sure, Lola." Smiling, he kneels down and smiles at the little blonde haired girl. "How would you like to have some juice and cookies?"

Eyes brightening at the prospect of sweets, the shy and withdrawn little one snaps her head up with a barely audible gasp. _Poor kid doesn't know it's all ration grade crap._

Victory shines in the Lieutenant's eyes as he offers a hand to be taken by a tiny, dwarfed one. Standing up, he smiles at the mother and motions the Lift. "Ladies first."

Woman smiles and child giggles as they walk to the elevator and step inside. As James taps the command for the Crew Deck and throws a look Jane's way that says it all. He's relieved to be given the job, mundane as it is, because it gets him away from the CIC and safe and sound on another level. All he really has to worry about is this brawl tearing the hull apart and down to the next.

Garrus, sense in this showing through, waits until the doors close before turning on the Major. "Mind explaining what the hell you were thinking," he demands more than asks, growling deep in irritation and mandibles clicking against his chin. "And, please, do explain why you specifically went against orders while you're at it."

Alenko, at least no longer one to back down, scowls at the turian towering over him. "I was _saving_ a mother and her child from slavers. Or have you forgotten what we stand for?"

" _You_ seem to forget this ship runs on credits. Credits you just spent buying two worthless slaves!"

"They aren't worthless! They are people just like you and me!" The human biotic clenches his fists. L2 removed or not, he still has some energy, unfocused of course, that pulses over his hands. "Or do you even care?"

"I care plenty, but it's our _crew_ I care about," her mate retorts. "Their food, their armors and weapons, the ship's fuel, supplies to repair and supplement what we lost in the war. You're the one running the books, so tell me, how much of the Normandy's credits did you use to buy a mother a child because let me tell you from what I learned, little girls don't exactly come cheap-"

That seemed to be the last straw, Kaidan flaring in uncontrolled biotic energy as he takes a swing at the taller turian. It doesn't land as Garrus slide steps and braves the burn, grabbing Kaidan's wrist to bend his arm behind his back. The man groans and tries to fight.

"You… you'd let innocent people die… or worse… be turned into slaves. What… happened to the man… who wanted justice for everyone?"

"He died," Garrus snaps as he adds more pressure on the arm. "He was replaced by someone who understands how the universe works. In saving two, you took from the fifty people on this ship that need those credits to do their jobs."

Knowing when the fight is won, Jane walks to her mate and lays a hand on his shoulder in silent command to let it go. He does, pushing the biotic away from him to stumble a few steps, but still has something to add. She lets him, keeping her hand on his shoulder to end the violence because she sees the other party drained of their will to make this physical again.

"But that's just like humans, isn't it?" Garrus growls as Kaidan throws a shocked look at the perceived racism, even though Jane already knows what her mate will say and the reasoning behind it. He is, after all, right and it was something that, during the war, she struggled with. "You are raised to believe that the fight isn't won until every last person is alive, but that's not how things work. You cannot save everyone, you can only save those you _chose_ to save."

"And what of you? You aren't as selfless as you pretend to be, Garrus." Alenko looks between them. "I couldn't let a child be sold into slavery and I couldn't let her watch her mother be sold. Could you imagine your own children in their place?"

Had Jane been a different woman, she'd have taken the truth with hurt, defending her actions, but that's _exactly_ what they'd do. Hell, they'd sacrifice the entire Normandy for their children and, yet, this argument is invalid considering that their children are _included_ in the whole of the Normandy as Garrus states.

"What we'd do for them shouldn't come as a surprise." Her mate steps closer, looking down at the Major whose height is dwarfed in the turian's shadow. "But, in bringing up our children, you have already proven my point. I will not let the Normandy fail because it is home to my mate and children." Darkness fills his eyes as he growls. "Credits that go to maintain the Normandy protect my children, and I can't just stand by knowing you used those credits to save two insignificant humans."

"Were they turian-"

"They'd have been sold," he snaps at Kaidan and Jane sighs, stepping between them. All Kaidan's arguments are doing is riling her husband up, feeding a fire licking at his feet, and she needs to douse it before it burns the whole ship down.

"Garrus. This is over. You won," she says as she lays a hand on his chest, the only one able to walk in the fire and come out unscathed, unburned. "How about you check on the kids? Send Traynor down?" He growls and stares at Kaidan before she nudges him back. "Please, Garrus?" she whispers where only he can hear, his greater hearing coming in handy when things the crew should not hear need to be said.

Exhaling heavily, his flames cool into a flicker and he turns from her, stomping to the elevator. She watches his broad back enter the lift and his blue eyes darkened by anger turn on the Major one last time before he nearly punches the command for the Captain's Cabin.

There is a still silence before Alenko speaks, exasperation and frustration in his voice. "Shepard. You have to understand-"

"I understand you disobeyed orders and risked your team," she interrupts calmly, turning Commander Shepard on the Major. Demanded retirement or not, she still knows how to wear that particular mask. "Do you know what happened to us when we tried to negotiate?" He frowns in confusion and she adds, "Do you wonder where Spectre Procris is?"

His eyes widen, though probably not for the right reason as he soon confirms in asking, "Did we forget her? Did you leave her on the Omega? Shepard-"

She holds a hand up to stop that line of thought. Time for explanation. "We left her in a sorts. She's dead." Crossing her arms, she continues to the shocked look in his eyes. "I doubt the batarians ever wanted to talk peace. They had a slave implanted with a bomb. They were trying to kill us, most like. I assume they were going to claim no connection to the whole refugee thing by selling the evidence and destroying any remnants of the 'negotiation'."

"It would still end in war…"

"Yes, but one that looks perpetrated by the Alliance." Jane sighs and rubs her forehead, a stress headache building on top of the exhaustion and hunger from her biotic use. "The Blue Suns was just a fucked up coincidence.

"That still leaves these two you bought." Knowing that she'll just get the same reasoning which, in its right, is a good, honorable one, she cuts him off. "The galaxy is a lot different from what it was. Life is hard, cruel, and hard decisions have to be made. Decisions that you may not agree with and decisions that will cost some people their lives while saving others."

She turns to leave before stopping. This issue isn't over, Kaidan will still believe he had done the right thing, and she just can't seem to let that be. He has to be able to see and, barring that, he has to at least respect hers and Garrus' orders.

"Did you know that the non-Alliance crew is not getting paid? By anyone," she seems to ask out of the blue, but leading somewhere with the line of thought. "Hell, even Garrus and I barely make credits from the Council and, what we do make, is split between ourselves and the Normandy accounts so that we have some cushion for emergencies and at least giving those people _some_ credits.

"True, we use what we have on our children, but you don't blame the crew for their individual spending, do you?" He shakes his head. "So it's the same thinking. You aren't taking credits out of our pockets, you took it from everyone's. If we can't afford to take care of the ship and her crew, then we aren't the Normandy. We're useless and unable to do our jobs that everyone expects of us."

"I… I don't know what to say."

"You used to say that the galaxy isn't as you expect, that things aren't like they are in books and television. Perhaps you should understand that our jobs aren't as you expect either. Just as we worked with Cerberus to defeat the Collectors despite the truth of their actions and we destroyed the Alpha Relay to stop the Reapers and killed hundreds of thousands, we make the darker choices in order to save the most people. Being relied on to do the dirty work means you have to be ready to get dirty."

Kaidan frowns and shakes his head, his eyes showing the pain of, what, being lied to? Could he really have lived his life thinking that it took only courage and honor to save the galaxy and its people as they did? "There's always a way to do the right thing."

"Sometimes you have to choose with 'right thing' is more important, the bigger one or all the small ones that influence it."


	35. Chapter 35

Jane

"As I said, Councilors, there is no way to misinterpret the situation." Jane looks at the projection of the four, Osoba clearly the one taking the news of the going ons from Omega the worst, and with good reason given he has the most to lose should his people go to war. "But I believe the death of Spectre Procris shouldn't just be steeped under the rug."

" _That's right,"_ the human Councilor's projection nods as his eyes look to the empty space beside her. It takes a moment, but she realizes that he must not be in the presence of the others and is speaking to their own projections in his quarters, or wherever he may be that has them separated. " _We can't allow the death of a Spectre go without response."_

 _Funny how you all were perfectly fine sending Garrus and me into the potential trap without a blink of your pretty little eyes, but the moment it's someone else, you are going to ape shit._ She can't help closing her eyes for a moment at the ridiculousness of that thought, giving her head a slight shake at the faulty logic. _Perhaps this was just an attempt to get us out of their hair… Without, apparently, just letting us have our damn retirement. What? Are you paying us out of your own personal pockets?_

She snaps out of her inner thoughts, something she tends to do when the supposed fifth wheel in Council conversations, and focuses on what's being said just in time to hear, " _-not present by Council orders-"_

"Wait… What?" She interrupts Councilor Irissa, and getting a nice little look of insult in return, and looks between the four of them projected just beyond the railing of the QEC platform. "Say that again."

Linron crosses her arms, annoyed at having to repeat what already has the human Councilor dropping his head in defeat. " _Spectre Procris was on the Normandy by her own volition."_

 _"_ _While regrettable, that means that her death was not the result of Council orders,"_ the asari Councilor says pointedly, as if having to repeat everything to a child. " _We are saddened to hear of her passing and lament the loss of a Spectre, but we cannot assume it was not just a case of in the wrong place at the wrong time."_

 _"_ _If not for you two,"_ The turian Councilor - Octavia, was it? - growls as she crosses her arms. " _She wouldn't be dead. But you can't resist throwing people into danger,can you?"_

"Oh, yeah. It was all me who implanted a bomb in the batarian woman. My bad." Jane scowls at the woman, her lip twitching in want to show some teeth in threat. _I really have been spending too much time around Archangel if I'm starting to pick up his body language now. What will I do? Scare her with my tiny, flat teeth?_

Octavia scoffs with a slight toss of her head, long mandibles flaring before clicking to her chin. " _Always the one with a witty retort, aren't you? We should be looking into this 'implanted bomb' claim and it not just the two of you getting some petty revenge."_

Taking the challenge, Jane spreads her arms out to her sides and flaps her fingers. "Show me what you got, bi-"

" _Enough!"_ Linron looks to the turian's projection with a stern scowl of reprimand for making things personal, something that - apparently - seems to be frowned upon by their rules or whatever the hell governs the four pompous pricks.

" _Councilor Linron is correct. This is not the matter for discussion."_ Irissa crosses her delicate hands behind her back and lifts her chin as she looks directly into the red head's eyes. " _We must trust in the testimony of Shepard and Vakarian on the matter as both those involved and Spectres."_

 _"_ _You will really do nothing while my people go to war?"_ She is almost ashamed to hear the man all but begging on his knees before the other three. As the leader of his people, he should be less emotional and more level headed, able to convince with words than pleas. " _As members of the galactic community, surely we have allies in an attack against our people, in attacks against galactic law?"_

 _"_ _I am sorry, Councilor Osoba."_ The asari bitch seems anything _but_ sympathetic, but there isn't much that can be done to talk a brick wall into bending to one's will. Better to just turn around and find a way around. " _But there is nothing we can do. Without sufficient evidence that this was an actual disregard of galactic laws and not an act against humanity as a separate people, we are unable to offer aid."_

 _Fucking bastards,_ is all Jane can think when her Councilor frowns deeply and drops his head, defeat and pain written over his image's features. She sighs in frustration at, once again, being denied help that is clearly needed and justified, but isn't surprised. What would really make her think that, after everything, their response would change? Even the fact of new Councilors has changed nothing.

" _The Alliance would send aid to any of the species needing help,"_ Osoba says softly, raising his head with determination as confidence begins to wash over him. " _In fact, the Normandy herself aided in countless rescues and assistance missions for every species on the Citadel."_

 _"_ _They also cured the Genophage."_ Of course Linron would bring that shit up. Considering she was the one responsible for stonewalling them every step of the way, it isn't all that much of a shock. " _You do not know the destruction the krogan inflicted on the Galaxy and you have no idea what damage they will now do as reparations for the centuries that we kept them in control."_

"They weren't pests you could exterminate, dammit. And they don't want war, they want colonies to be able to grow, just as every other species has colony rights." She crosses her arms. "You also fail to see that the krogan didn't just help humanity, but also the turians."

What surprises Jane, though it shouldn't given the truth of it - not that truth or logic ever comes into play with the Council - is when Councilor Octavia nods and looks to the salarian Councilor. " _Shepard is right. Without the Cure, the krogan would not have aided my people and, without my people, the war would not have been won."_

_"_ _The alliance between humanity, the krogan, and the Hierarchy left us and the asari to fend for ourselves!"_

"The salarian did not join thanks to _your_ orders, Dalatrass," Jane reminds as she crosses her arms. "Even your military thought you had your head up your own ass or cloaca or some such shit. They joined our forces and it's because of them that your sorry ass is even here." Her green eyes turn to burn holes into the asari Councilor. "And you, Irissa, and your predecessor are the only ones to blame for not having our support." Seeing no reason to keep it secret any longer, she smirks wickedly and unleashes what could shift the scales greatly. "Besides, of all species, you should have been the best prepared given that Prothean beacon you had hiding on Thessia."

" _What?"_ Linron narrows her eyes as they snap to Irissa, Octavia trilling in shock as she drops her arms and turns to the woman in turn.

" _Is this true, Councilor?"_ The turian woman nearly demands, the only thing easing her voice the sheer shock.

If looks could kill, then the cold stare Irissa gives Jane would have her bursting into flames right here in the Comm Room, but, as it is, the Spectre is merely left smirking in victory. Gaining aid for the Alliance or not, she has fired her best shot at the stability of the Council, shaken the field in hopes of finally getting everyone on the same level. No longer can the asari stand on the side lines and pretend, with their high and mighty bullshit, that they are infallible and fit for their claimed position as mediators of the Galaxy.

After all, it was they who created the laws of equal opportunity concerning Prothean artifacts and knowledge. If Jane's prejudices were ever right, it was that their people always had a way of putting themselves above the level of others while hiding their superiority behind 'equality'.

" _These are not matters to involve Spectre Shepard in. We can speak of these accusations at a later date."_ Ever the one 'in control' - _more like the one with everyone's balls in her tight, claw-like grip_ \- Irissa regains control of the conversation with an ease Jane envies and hates all at once. With a look to each of the Councilors at her shoulders, she claims all attention and acquiescence. It is a trait that asari seem to have over ever damn species and, now more than ever, is perhaps one of the most deadly weapons.

Jane once overheard a conversation on Illium between the different species members of a bachelor party and their drunken observations of an asari dancer. Through their admiration, one brought up a conspiratorial theory that, perhaps, the monogendered species had a unknown power to make every species see in them their most admired beauty features. Maybe, just maybe, they were onto something.

Oh, the many ways the Galaxy as she thought she knew it would change were that ridiculous theory actually true. Not that there would ever come a day to even ever know, but it certainly helps to explain the way they can sway so many with a single word, touch, or look.

Damn, if only she had that ability. Her life would be so much easier.

Both turian and salarian Councilors nodding in agreement, Irissa turns those cold eyes to Jane and says, " _This Council meeting is adjourned. We expect you aboard the Destiny Ascension for your next assignment."_

 _I'll come when I'm damn well ready_ , she thinks but doesn't say. Instead, she nods and with a flat expression. She will not be swayed or threatened by the cold glare from the asari woman. She has stared down Reapers and won, so a single politician does not make her concerned in the least bit. "We have matters to attend to on Earth. We have evidence that at least the Alliance would like to see before moving towards war." _At least_ _ **someone**_ _will after all the shit we went through to get it._

As if Jane would really care for the emotionless formality, Irissa nods in feigned parting before tapping the comm controls, closing the connection between the Normandy at least the three female members of the Council. That only leaves Jane and Osoba, or his hologram, alone in the Comm Room and she looks to him to see what his reasoning for staying behind is.

" _Shepard,"_ he begins solemnly, raising his chin and parting his feet in attempt to appear in control and calm. " _Even if nothing comes from it, I thank you and your husband for trying to make peace with the batarians. I will not lie and say that I am pleased, but I know you don't need to hear my worries or complaints when you already know them."_

 _"_ At least someone isn't riding my ass about it."

" _Yes. Well…"_ He clears his throat and sighs, starting again. " _I would like to know your next step concerning the possible backlash of these new developments."_

 _"_ You mean what will I do about the war." It is more a statement than a question, but she watches as the man nods anyways and cocks a hip, leaning back on a foot. "Not a damn thing." That shocks him, but she continues with little care, needing these fucking people to get the picture whether they like the sounds of it or not. "I am _not_ fighting another fucking war. I'm done with that shit. The Normandy may be on the way to Earth, but it is a courtesy to my crew. If any of them want off to join the Alliance in this over help me in my missions, then they are free to go, but the Normandy is my ship and I am already being forced to do the Council's dirty work, so that's _all_ I'm doing."

" _I… I hadn't expected that as your answer. I must say I'm stunned by your blatant honesty more than your decision."_

 _"_ Even you must admit that my husband and I deserve a fucking break, but seeing as how you assholes keep dragging us in, I will at least put my foot down when it comes to what we are forced to do." She uncrosses her arms and holds her hand above the comm shut off. "Human or not, I am done with the Alliance after they practically kidnapped and imprisoned us. They lost my loyalty in that moment, lost my gun and my ship."

With that, she has the command to shut the call with a thud of her fingers. Let him be pissed if he wants to take it as a spite, but she's done being talked at by the Council and ignored when she speaks for today. What could they possibly do to her that they haven't already? Court martial her? Dismiss her from duty? Hell, that'd be a blessing more than punishment, but if she'll get it, she promises to pretend to cry and beg.

Turning to leave, she finds Traynor at her post outside the Comm Room as she always tends to do when there is an active call should she be needed to try and reconnect a lost or weak signal. While such a task wouldn't exist in normal circumstances, the aftermath of the war comes riddled with gaps in communication buoys and signals, so the Comm Specialist stays just as active now as during the war where the comms never went silent.

"How did it go?" The woman turns as she hears Jane's footsteps and her question dies on her lips as she sees the look on the red head's face. "That bad?"

"Not bad, just typical," she responds, motioning to follow her out of the inactive War Room, through the abandoned security checkpoint, past the Conference Room, and to the CIC. "The Council will not help the Alliance in the upcoming war and wouldn't even listen to the evidence we had. They even blame us for Procris' death and claim no involvement in her joining us, which is most likely a load of horse shit." Sighing, she rubs her brow to try and ease the dull ache there that always forms when talking to idiots. "I want you to send out a message to all crew that we will be arriving on Earth in the next day cycle. This is their chance to get off if they have a greater loyalty to the Alliance than the Normandy. I won't blame them if they would rather assist in the war against the Hegemony, it's just that the Normandy will not be involved."

Traynor's eyes widen in shock as her mouth falls open. "We… Not in the war?"

"No. We've seen enough war," Jane confirms, leaning her hip against the woman's station. "We may be forced to do the Council's dirty work, but I will not be a part of another war. I'm done with spearheading for the Alliance."

There is a moment of silence, the woman in thought as she bites her lip and scans her terminal before looking up and nodding. "Yes, ma'am. I will send a message to the entire crew. I… I would like to stay."

Jane smiles, an honest and proud one at the woman that has grown so much from the shy, unprepared tech to a seasoned Normandy crew member, and stand up. "That's good to hear, Traynor." She pats her on the shoulder in passing, heading for the lift. "Make sure the crew knows there is no pressure or consequences for their choice, but it'd sure be a hell of a lot easier if more of them stay than leave."

She hears Samantha chuckle over her shoulder and the click of her fingers over the terminal as she stops at the Lift doors. "Oh, Shepard?"

"Hm?" She turns and holds the doors with a hand over the sensors. "Yeah?"

"You should go check out the Cargo Bay," she says over her shoulder with a coy smile. "I hear Garrus was needing to spar with someone while you were talking to the Council. Apparently everyone in the lower levels are watching and placing bets."

"Oh boy," Jane responds with a chuckle, releasing the doors and hitting the proper command. "Time to see who's the poor bastard that got tricked into sparring with the ship's best hand-to-hand specialist."


	36. Chapter 36

Jane

It's not that she was worried of the trouble her mate could be getting into or, more like, bringing another in his irritation from both the shit Kaidan pulled _and_ being dismissed before things went bad fast. She mostly felt sympathy for whatever poor fool was tricked into helping ease that tension built up that they couldn't burn off _together_ thanks to having to deal with the damn Council first thing after returning to the ship off Omega.

Hell, she didn't even have the chance to change out of her soot covered armor before her sense got the better of her and made her trek to the Comm Room. Better to get it out of the way first thing, she had thought, and now she's wondering if she shouldn't consider some sparing of her own after the annoyance that call turned out to be.

Humming, she uncrosses her impatient arms and runs her glove over her knowingly disheveled hair. The move does nothing to the curls that have sprung out of her bun and she wonders how, even with her thirty-one years with it, her husband manages to tame the mess of fiery curls and, to her, tangles. She just doesn't have the patience for anything more than either pulling back in a messy bun or tying it up.

She taps her foot at the extremely slow lift and wonders why it always seems to move slower when she needs to be somewhere as she whispers in rhythm to the music in her head. "... gimme shelter, or I'm gonna fade away...," falls from her lips just as the elevator doors slide open to admit her into the - very busy - Cargo Bay full of many of the off duty, or maybe still on duty, crew gathered around for the apparent show.

Some duck their heads in guilt as she walks towards them, parting at her approach to the mats. She can look the other way for now considering they are in transit and not being pursued by Reapers, mercs, pirates, or anything of the many others that may have beef with the Normandy.

True to Traynor's words, Garrus is, in fact, sparring, but his opponent isn't exactly who she'd have expected, Lantar Sidonis. In fact, she wasn't even sure she'd see her husband anywhere _near_ the man, let alone in the same ring as him, but, then again, this may be the most logical place to take out whatever is building between the two of them.

It's obvious which of the fighters is more adept at close quarters as Garrus barely seems to have broken a sweat, or the equivalent for turians, and Sidonis' mouth is silently parted to get the chilled air to cool his body temperature. Still, he hasn't given up, which is either a good sign to his skills or a bad one to his common sense. Her hopes that the two can come to a mutual agreement could actually take fruit seeing as how her mate either hasn't performed an injuring move, but, then again, not taking him down might just be a predator playing with his food.

Sidonis throws a punch that Garrus uses a forearm to both block and push aside, opening his opponent to a knee to the gut. The younger turian grunts and takes a step back to feign right before hooking from the left. That actually lands, though not entirely solid, against Garrus' jaw and he returns with a side step and punch to Lantar's back, directly below his rib plates.

"Your husband is good," she hears from her side, the female turian pilot finding her way through the crowd to her side with the quiet Jane knows her species to be capable of should they see the need.

"He is the best on the ship, but don't let him know I said that," Jane says with a chuckle, crossing her arms with a relaxed lean to watch the show. "He already has a big ego."

Aelia chuckles and nods. "Yes, I bet he does. Most males his age do when they've risen as fast as he has." She goes quiet for a moment as Garrus loops an arm under Sidonis' punch to throw him over his shoulder and to the ground, but doesn't go for a pin. "He has earned it though. What he did for our people was paramount to how many survived. He'd make a good leader in the rebuilding."

Jane snorts and lifts a brow in a side glance to the dark plated woman, the resemblance to her cousin remarkable. "I don't think you've spent enough time with him. He'd make a _horrible_ politician."

A rumbling chuckle sounds from beside her as she shrugs to the sound of plates hitting plates. "Perhaps, but even I can tell he would never agree to it. Not with the circumstances." Another red brow rises in question and Aelia finally looks to her, smiling softly. "I'd like to meet your children one day. Perhaps I can gain your trust to be given that honor."

"My… what?"

"The great and outspoken Shepard without words?" Victus laughs with a deep, amused rumble, causing some of the onlookers to glance their way before quickly returning to the sparring match. "Really, it's not too hard to put one and one together. You smell of babies." Jane can't help the unconscious sniff of her air before the woman chuckles again, shaking her head. "Don't worry, it is not an easy scent to pick up on. I only know it as well as I do because I have played midwife to my sister many times."

"Still, you picked up on that almost instantly."

A shrug is all she gets before the woman gives her a smirk. "I also watch the news."

Sometimes Jane still forgets the massive media storm that must have been released when the news of their 'adoption' reached whatever asshole couldn't keep their mouth shut between Procris or the Council. She wouldn't put it past any of those involved to have let the juicy rumors slip for some underhanded credits. She can only imagine what's being said about her, her mate, and their children from the Terra Firma assholes to the opposing 'every species is just a piece of the whole, spiritual universe' nut jobs, but at least her busy work keeps her from having to watch the shitstorm of accusations and rumors.

"You shouldn't always trust what you see on the extranet, Aelia," she says with a smirk, turning back to the mats just as Garrus pins Lantar down with a knee to his spine and arm bent uncomfortably behind his back to discourage any struggle.

Sidonis taps with his free hand, panting as the older, bigger turian releases him. Climbing to his feet, the younger man offers Garrus a hand that, despite everything they've been through, takes it with a firm grip. Whatever feelings they have for the other outside this moment, she is proud to say that they can put it away to at least have a friendly, clean spar. Well, as clean as fighting a mix of Hierarchy and Omega styles of combat can be.

The shake ends probably quicker than it should and Jane is probably the only one that sees Sidonis' mandibles twitch into a frown when her husband releases his hand and turns to come to her. When she first came face to face with the man, she had tried to kill him, tried to toss him over the ledge and to his death, but now?

Now she feels sort of sorry for the man, forever scarred with his mistake - of which she _doesn't_ think he shouldn't have paid for - but still without forgiveness. Knowing the reasoning behind Garrus' distrust and anger makes it worse for she knows his hate for the younger man is more of distrust and disgust than anger and pain over the loss of the Archangel team. She knows that Garrus was, as bad as it sounds, as unaffected by the death of the team as he would be the death of strangers. To him, the revenge was that of a vigilante making right a crime and bringing justice for those who could not do it themselves.

Also, she has a pretty positive feeling that Sidonis will turn out to be their best squad member because he's smart enough to realize that Garrus will just _look_ for a reason to kill him. Hell, if he's smart, which she thinks he is to have survived a life on Omega, he probably knows that he'd be the first to be blamed for any mishap and, with that respect, will go above and beyond to ensure that doesn't happen. Plus, even if she isn't sure she's still okay with the fact, there's no reason Sidonis will betray the man he has an unrequited love for, as proven when he betrayed his friends.

"Enjoy the show?" The man who has her heart as his own lays in her hands purrs as he pants softly, cupping her chin to turn her head to look up at his smirk.

She snorts at his ego and wraps her fingers around his wrist. "I'm surprised."

"Why?" She motions Sidonis walking to the lift with a few of the crew, a shocked look on his face that must be from the fact that most aren't outright avoiding him after that little tantrum Garrus made in calling him a traitor. Garrus sighs when his eyes follow hers and he says, "I am trying, Jane. I really am, but part of me still wants to watch him closely."

"I know. And it's better than wanting to kill him every time you look at him." Smiling up to him, she cups his face and pulls him down to press her forehead to his. His breath is warm as it fans over her face and she says, "I asked you to give him a chance and you are trying, so I thank you. Plus, I know you could've killed him right then and there before anyone could have stopped you."

"I… I actually didn't think of it," he admits with a rumble and slight frown of confusion. "I more wanted an actual spar than a chance to kill a man. Even if his moves were easy to predict, it eased away some of the tension from the entire thing with Kaidan." He narrows his eyes as he stands straight and looks down over his clothed chest at her. _Must have taken off his armor here to spar in his undersuit._ "We still need to talk about this whole dismissing me thing."

Shrugging, she motions the lift. "You were about to have a beat down in the middle of the CIC. Plus, you might have seriously gotten hurt. Kaidan's biotics without an implant can be dangerous because they aren't always controllable. And I _know_ you burned your hand passing through them."

"It's not as bad as some of the burns I got from you during your nightmares."

"It's been a long time since then, Garrus. Years."

"You saying I'm old?" he asks with an affronted trill.

She smirks teasingly. "Turians certainly don't age backwards, do they?"

He hums as they step into the elevator, looking down to her. "Well, this 'old man' still has what it takes to, what's the saying, give you a run for your credits?"

"Oh?" Raising a brow, she stands before him and crosses her arms to examine him, measuring him up. "You care to back that statement up?"

At that, he lowers his vocals to that gravely growl that has only gotten more irresistible since the scarring on his neck that must have at least touched his chords. Her blood heats with his step closer and she sighs out when his arms snap forward to pin her against the cool wall. His head dips down as he purrs heavily. "Oh, I can do more than that?"

Just as she opens her mouth to give him some witty retort, the doors open to the small hallway of their deck, the lift pinging at their arrival. Instead of speak, she smirks and lays a hand on his chest to push him from her. Hips swaying - having no clue if she accomplishes it in her heavy armor or just looks ridiculous - she heads to the door and hears him growl as his footsteps follow her own.

They have a moment before the Cabin's doors open where he lays a hand over the back of her neck and the touch is like electricity, making her all too aware of how hot her armor and undersuit already is as her body flushes beneath. Oh, she knows he knows what he does as she is as readable to him and he is to her and he knows just how teasing the removal of that touch is when he pulls away.

He chuckles at her heavy, frustrated sigh that is barely hidden behind the hiss of the opening doors. She'll get him back one day. When she isn't keyed up from battle. When she _also_ isn't turned on by seeing his lithe bulk moving over the sparring mats. Hell, she'll face it, when she isn't so easy for him to wrap around his finger. _Kinky choice of words._

Entering brings the sounds of a lullaby to their ears, Gabby Daniels taking up the baby watching duty by her own request before the mission. The upper study has already been cleared of the massive desk and terminal to be replaced by the double crib they had lucked out in finding on Omega the first time they scrambled for supplies. All that's really left is to cut a hole in the wall of the bathroom directly by the entrance for a new door and putting up the wall for privacy.

Daniels sings some soft song Jane hasn't heard before, but, then again, she didn't hear very many - _none, actually_ \- when she was a child. "Sleep, pretty darlings. Do not cry, and I will sing a lullaby," she whispers as she looks over her shoulder and hums, smiling at their entrance.

The children must be asleep as they don't make any of their signature babbles or attempts at words, merely the soft, occasional soft purrs that one wouldn't hear unless used to listening for the sound. Jane is pretty sure it's just their uncalled for panic that she and her mate often stay up late listening for those listen sounds. Sometimes they come just a moment too late and it sends the two of them jumping out of bed and to check in on them only to find them still fast asleep and unsuspecting. Sometimes she wonders how two hardened soldiers like them ever manage to be parents.

"Hey," Gabby says softly as she comes to them, smiling. "I just got them to sleep. They've been fed and changed."

"Thank you, Gabby." Jane motions to the crib. "We know they can be a handful-"

"And they aren't even walking and talking yet," Garrus adds with an amused rumble as the woman shakes her head, waving them off.

"It's nothing. They're just so cute how could I _not_ want to babysit them?" Heading for the door, she stops and quirks her lip in thought. "I heard about the batarian thing and, I just want you to know, Kenneth and I are with you guys no matter what."

Jane looks to her mate with a smile forming before nodding. "That's great to hear. We'd be dead in the water without engineers and we trust you with the Normandy."

"We wouldn't trust just any engineers with the ship," her husband agrees with a rumbling chuckle. "Plus, I don't think the Normandy could stand it without Donnelly's expert observations of the entire female crew."

The woman snorts as she heads out of the Cabin, giving them their privacy. It isn't a moment after the door is closed that Jane sighs and reaches up to pop the first seal of her armor. "Jesus, I can't wait to get this off and take a hot shower."

"Just a shower?" Garrus holds a hand to his chest with a trill of mock hurt. "I guess I'll just go down to the Lounge to drink away the sorrow you just brought me."

"You probably should. Last thing I want is a mopey turian in my bed."

" _Your_ bed? I do believe that's a turian bed, so, if anything, you're in _my_ bed," he responds with an offer to take her chest plate from her and set it on the floor despite their good natured bickering.

"What makes you think that's not my and my suitor's bed? I could be seeing a turian. Wouldn't want him to be uncomfortable when he's railing me."

His hum of thought nearly makes her drop the act and chuckle as he looks off to consider that. "Well, wouldn't want to get in the way of you and your suitor. Just know that he'd never be as good as Archangel and Praetor of the Hierarchy."

She smirks and she sets aside the last of her armor to just her black undersuit. Humming, she steps closer to him and runs her fingers down his clothed keel. "It takes more than a fancy title to impress a girl like me."

His deep throated growl and dark smirk sends shivers down her spine as he grabs her hand and slowly uses his body to back her into the open bathroom and under the shower. Releasing her hand, he hooks a talon in the zipper of her undersuit and slowly pulls his down, the chilled air and anticipation prickling her skin. He likes that, she knows, because his growl rolls and free hand runs its metal fingers along the crease between her breasts up to slide behind her neck to pull her hair free from its tie.

"You smell good."

She can't help the snort and raised brow, asking for affirmation. "Like sweat?"

All she gets is a shrug as his hands push the undersuit from her shoulders and down her arms to bunch at her hips. She is unable to stop her hands from sliding to the closures of his own undersuit and she slowly snaps them open as his hands slide along scarred flesh and cups her breasts. "You're making it hard to concentrate," she sighs out and lets her eyes flutter when a talon ghosts over each nipple.

"Then try harder," he rumbles with a smirk, leaning over to kiss her forehead. "Or take your time. There's no rush."

"Maybe for you." Her hands finally get the catches open and she slides her hands over his jagged and scarred plates, not caring at how the years have taken their toll on his once smooth and flawless body. "That's better."

His chuckle is dark and deep, mouth moving to let her hear his gravelly growl of growing arousal as a noticeable bulge begins to form in his suit. She gets the silent clue and pushes his suit over his unhelpful arms and down to his jutting hips, continuing over them and down his thighs. Avoiding his erection in tease, she kneels and pulls the suit up and over each spur before tossing it aside and out of the shower.

Standing, she lets him undress her in return. His hands are warm and rough - at least the real one is, the artificial is the exact opposite in an exhilarating contrast - from the calluses of life and battle as they slide down her legs with underwear and undersuit in tow. He lets her use his shoulders to balance as she steps out of the black weave, watching as he tosses it aside.

Her hands slide down over his body as he stands and palms the controls to send water cascading down over their battle covered bodies. She yelps at the chill and presses closer to his warmth, not knowing how the hell he didn't jump or yelp at the near icy temperature as he chuckles and wraps his arms around her. The embrace quickly turns from the need of warmth to the tender need of closeness, of the touch of the other, as the water begins to heat up to a more comfortable steaming stream.

Looking up to her husband, she smiles and feels him bend to press his plated forehead to hers, nuzzling before shifting to press their mouths together. Years of practicing to get this right results in their mouths fitting perfectly in a way nature and evolution hadn't intended. With their heads just slightly tilted away, her lips can fit against his as they both open to deepen the action. Even tongues so different from the other manage to work in harmony as each makes up for what the other lacks. His longer, rougher and slightly drier tongue can move and flex in ways she could never imagine while her flatter, softer and wetter tongue can let their individual tastes mix and tangle together.

His hands caress her cheeks and down her neck and chest to her waist to pull her against him as best as their position can. She smirks against his plates and drops a hand to his length, running her palm and fingers over the slick heat she finds there. He groans softly and stands up, pulling her completely against his angular body to trap her hand and his erection between their bodies.

"Turn around," he says softly with thumbs stroking her waist. It's more a request than order, but she loves that dark look in his eyes that tells of his desire that matches her own.

Removing his hands from her waist, she does as he asks and turns, leaning against the cold wall. He doesn't leaving her wanting long as she soon feels him between her legs, situating himself before sliding home with a smooth stretch of her walls. The pleasure is like coming home as she sighs and closes her eyes, leaning her head against the wall.

Garrus doesn't immediately move, leaning against her until she feels his keel between her shoulder blades and feels his hands caress her own before pressing to the wall above them. Then, as if testing the fit, he grinds and pulls out slowly, waiting.

Just as she starts to grow impatient and debates whether to push back, she feels him slowly slide back in, repeating the slow movements as the two of them are given the chance to just reacquaint themselves with the shape and feel of the other. His face presses to her neck and she feels the roughness of his tongue over her skin as he licks her softly, in time with his loving movements.

"Garrus," she says breathlessly, dropping her hand to his waist to squeeze and chuckle at his resulting buck of his hips. "What brought this on? I thought you'd want to fuck away your stress. _Our_ stress."

"Maybe later," he whispers with a hint of amusement to his voice, but speeds up slightly and dropping his hand between her legs to circle that nub of nerves. She gasps and moans, but he cuts her off with a kiss. "Right now I want to take advantage of the two of us making out of today."

She understands completely what he means, knowing that pain and panic she felt when he hadn't immediately answered her call when she couldn't see him. Not that she expected such an insignificant, compared to all the shit they've been through, explosion to take him down, but the fact remains the same that they _did_ lose someone. It could very well have been them whose luck had run out.

"I love you."

"I love you too, Jane."

Just having him here, feeling his finger over her folds, and ridged length teasing every nerve in her body through their connection is enough to send shocks through her body that pulls her muscles tighter with each thrust until everything reaches a peak. She has enough sense to stifle her sounds as she presses to his mouth at the last moment of her whining moan, universe crashing around her as her knees immediately try to give out.

She distantly hears and feels his growl as he follows her, sliding out of her at the last minute so as not to leave them stranded in the shower without the ability to move without pain. They have an entire day cycle to repeat this and actually knot, but, right now, she takes a different sort of pleasure in his arms wrapping around her and muzzle pressing to the top of her head as her holds her in the aftermath.


	37. Chapter 37

Garrus

As soon as they arrived at the Alliance dock in Vancouver, the Normandy was swarmed by vultures, all crowing and vying for attention. Their demands and questions were audible over the comm as Joker was busy requesting permission to dock and Garrus had to wonder just how much of a grip these Alliance soldiers supposedly had over the situation.

All the more reason that he and his wife turn from the cockpit and head down towards the CIC to find someone ready to hold back on the ship and willing to guard their children while they ensured everything was in order. This was probably the last time they would be within the Sol system so long as the Alliance was intent on war and they still had some loved ones and allies that they wanted to ensure weren't going to play martyrs after they all they've already done.

He knew the former crew couldn't really defy orders without backlash, but at least he and his wife could convince them not to _volunteer_ to go through hell all over again. Fighting one war - and definitely the worst - was enough for the galaxy and politicians. At least _some_ of them should earn their freedom so they could live vicariously through their friends while stuck aboard the ship that has become their prison.

Rym steps out of the lift with heavy thumps of her armor painted in greens, browns, and black to match the shifts of color in her own plates. One look from the krogan's orange eyes look over the two of them, landing on the twins. "You can't take them out in that mess," she says stiffly as she motions the cockpit where Aelia has closed the shutters so they don't have to look at the throng of reporters and questioning citizens.

"Are you volunteering?" His mate lifts a red brow with a smirk on her lips and untangles Damocles' hands from her chestplate despite his soft, trilling growl in protest, holding him out at arms' length at the krogan. "You know you want to."

The face Rym makes nearly breaks his mask of reluctant and choosy parents, a laugh almost rumbling out at the look of the female. Eyes widen slightly as her lips frown as body leans just subtly away, the epitome of an utterly lost individual that thinks a baby would suddenly turn into a giant yahg at the slightest breath. True, Damocles can be a little monster all his own, but Garrus wouldn't go _that_ far.

"It smells," the female says in confusion as she holds up a finger just before the babbling baby that Damocles reaches for with his tiny, five fingered hands. "And too small."

Garrus chuckles at that, knowing their children are actually big for their age compared to a full blooded turian, and shifts Cassia on his hip. "They're not as sturdy as krogan babies, that's for sure, but Damocles won't bite."

"At least not hard enough that your redundant nervous system can't take care of it," Jane adds with a chuckle, their son wiggling impatiently in her hands.

Convinced that he won't hurt her, at least, Rym steps closer and _pokes_ their son in the belly softly before snatching her hand away. "He's too soft. What if I break him?"

"Soft?" Jane snorts and urges the girl to take hold of the baby. "Here, I'll show you how to hold him."

An uneasy rumble comes from the girl, but she accepts the child in her much larger hands. Garrus watches as Jane shows her how to wrap an arm around his hips to cradle his rear in the crook that it forms. Next, Jane shows her how to hold him close with her free hand and Garrus gives a rumble and smile as he sees the surprised excitement light up the girl's face.

Now that he thinks of it, Rym's reluctance and timid nature towards the children isn't all that surprising or out of place. She may be of an age for krogan to have attempted to have children of her own, but when she failed, she moved towards her work. It would make sense if she never handled a child in her life, too busy trying to better her people, and, when finally given the chance, it isn't as she expected.

Yet, she relaxes quickly and smiles warmly at the baby pawing at her much rougher hide, even going to far as to try and grab her bottom lip. She playfully snaps at his fingers and giggles, grabbing Cassia's attention and matches giggles. Garrus chuckles at that, the two of them with a connection he never would have imagined though Jane says is quite common in twins of species capable of producing them.

"I like him," Rym says with a rumbling laugh as he tries again to grab her lip, growling in anticipation for the returning snap. "He is stubborn. Like a krogan."

"Please, don't say that or Jane will be taking him to Tuchanka for a Rite," he deadpans as his mate smirks.

"He'd kick some Thresher ass. Maybe have Grunt as his Battlemaster." She nudges him with an elbow as the lift opens once again to Traynor blowing over a mug of something herbal he can smell from where he stands. "Oh, Traynor. You heading off ship?"

"No, ma'am," she answers with a smile, like that should be obvious. "Have you even heard what's going on outside?" She shakes her head exaggeratedly. "No way." Setting her mug down to finally look at them, she gasps with wide eyes and a huge grin. "Rym! You're holding Damocles!"

Rym simply hums as she gets used to the feeling of the baby in her arms enough to wiggle a finger before his nose, causing him to grip it and bite onto the glove with a chirping growl. She wiggles it with an imitation of his growl as she lets him teeth on the heavy weave of her glove. Just the thought of her digging in the AI Core with her hands has Garrus thanking the fact that she does it without gloves because he doesn't even want to _imagine_ what could be on those gloves if not. _I know I wouldn't want them chewing on my_ own _gloves after I've maintained the guns because they get absolutely filthy with who knows what._

He watches Samantha tap at her terminal before taking a sip and turning to them once again. Without a word, she holds out her arms to him with an impatient wave of her hands. "Alright, come to aunty Sam."

"Quite demanding, are we?" Jane says with a lifted brow as she cocks her hip, but Garrus hands over their daughter anyways, trusting the woman in caring for their children. She's proven herself many times over when they needed someone in a pinch when work pulled them away. "Don't you have work, Specialist?"

He knows the teasing question for what it is, as does the woman who rolls her eyes and turns all attentions to the baby now in her arms. "I just checked. Nothing but media static," she says quickly before making babbling noises at the infant on her hip. "Can you say Sam? Can you say Sam?"

"Sam?" Garrus snorts as he heads to follow Jane to the lift, his armor making his footsteps heavier. "She'll be saying 'dada' before she says anything else."

"No way in _hell_ she says 'dada' before 'mama', Garrus," his mate corrects them all, reaching over and hovering above the command for the Cargo Bay where they will exit the ship from the ramp along with whatever few crew have decided to stand by the Alliance. It will also be easier to slip back and forth once cargo starts to be loaded. They'll just have to suffer the initial disembark. "And, Traynor? If you get them to say 'mama', then I'll requisition you something nice. Maybe find some nice Earth chocolate."

He has no idea what's so special about chocolate and why it seems like every woman he's ever come into contact with loves it so much, but he knows he's beat when the woman grins and salutes. "Aye, aye, ma'am. 'Mama' it is."

Jane chuckles and taps as he makes an exaggerated pout, rumbling sadly with quivering mandibles. "Oh, don't be such a sore loser," she replies, unmoved by his sadness as she smirks and pretends to ignore his pleading looks. "It's not my fault that I know how to bribe."

"Bribery," he agrees as he wraps an arm around her shoulders to pull her close to his body, purring. "I should have known. Unlike you, I will not stoop to such a level."

All he gets in response to that is an unbelieving snort as her own arm relaxes around his hips, her weight leaning against his side. He knows this moment is going to be the calmest for quite a while once they step into the threshold of the Cargo Bay doors and try to cut through the throng of annoyances that have nothing better to do than harass the only person responsible for saving all off their sorry hides.

When the doors open, they are stopped in their tracks by the Normandy's Requisition Officer and only resident Elcor. "Eagerly. Greetings Shepard and Vakarian. With confusion. Or is it just Vakarian?"

"Shepard and Vakarian is good," the redhead replies with a curious tilt to her head. "Can we help you, Harrot?"

"With pride. I have acquired the supplies for your Cabin's remodelling. I can have the items delivered while docked on Earth and members of nonessential crew can assemble and install said modifications to the Captain's Quarters. Cautiously. I would not trust outside assistance given the sensitive nature of the occupants' existence this new addition pertains to."

Under other circumstances, he wouldn't trust the money-hungry Elcor, but fear is a good trust building emotion. Should he betray them, Harrot would be hunted by both the Normandy and her current and former crew as well as Aria because, if there's one thing Garrus knows about the woman, it's that she can't stand someone defying her orders. Whatever Harrot owes Aria for serving on the Normandy, Garrus knows that the Elcor's presence here is him paying a debt to Aria while she pays a debt to Garrus and his mate for practically leading the reclamation of Omega.

So, it is with that confidence in the man's common sense and self-preservation that Garrus allows him to deal with matters pertaining to their children. Does he know the exacts of their existence? No way would they give him that chance and he hasn't physically seen them since boarding thanks to his long hours here in the Cargo Bay, so he doesn't know much more than anyone who turns on the vidscreen or visits the extranet.

"What about the bathroom? Can you manage moving the door?"

"Reassuringly. Yes. I have already planned the location of the alteration according to the blueprints of the Captain's Quarters provided," Harrot says in that typical monotone as he turns and lumbers towards his station here in the Bay. "Inquisitive. Would you like to see?"

Jane shrugs in what Garrus knows is a 'why not' as she leads the way to the station where the large terminal designed for an Elcor's large hands - probably something he requisitioned from Omega for himself - projects an image across the flat surface of the workbench. "With confidence in success. As you can see, there is a section of wall that does not contain vital systems."

He motions the wall directly to the right of the entrance where they had initially expected to be able to gain access to the small bathroom. That would put the entrance directly beside the shower, but outside of its spray or drainage. Beside that is where the new wall will be, not weight bearing by any means, but the merely need it as a divider between themselves as their growing infants. It is, at least, supported internally to sport a basic door to admit them into the 'nursery' without having to keep the current bathroom door open to use as a roundabout way to the babies. He can only imagine the troubles _that_ would give them in the future.

Humming, Garrus runs his talon over the perimeter of the small nursery, asking, "How long will it all take? We aren't planning on being on Earth for much longer than a few hours."

"With optimism. The supplies are planned to arrive within the hour."

"And to build it?" Jane then asks when Garrus steps away. "Say on a good day with the most crew you'll need?"

"Tentatively. A day?"

Her brow shoots up as she crosses her arms. "A day? How many hours? And what's the longest step?"

"Thoughtful calculation. The most tedious task will be the removal and replacement of the lavatory entrance. If I can get a crew to begin work immediately, the task should be completed tomorrow before 'lights out', as you humans call the time of evening when you proceed to sleep."

"So all day and part of today?" When she receives an affirmative, Jane sighs and runs a hand over her pulled back hair. "Damn. Okay. Let us know if anything slows down the process… and I expect to be able to sleep in our own bed tonight, so when I call it a night, I want the crew out for the night."

"With understanding. Yes, Shepard. Of course."

They leave the Elcor to his planning, there nothing left to be said and the clock ticking against everything they have to do before having to leave the planet. Walking to the opening ramp, they meet up with Alenko and the two refugees he had spent Normandy credits to 'save'. A fact that still makes Garrus' mandibles twitch in irritation at both the blatant disregard of orders _and_ embezzling the money he was supposed to be allocating and safeguarding.

"Kaidan," Jane says, motioning him to part from the mother and child when he turns to look. He frowns in confusion, but comes to the summons, crossing his arms behind his back in parade rest. _So he and Jane hadn't reached an agreement on the issue._ "We need to talk."

Alenko sighs and drops his stance, rubbing at the crown of that dark hair that seems weightless - _biotics, he had said. Self-pampering I say_ \- as he tries to explain once again. "Look, Shepard. I know that you and Garrus have-"

"You're off the ship," she interrupts, her tone brokering no protest.

Doesn't stop the man's eyes from widening in shock as his mouth falls open. "What? Are you… You're kicking me off the Normandy?"

"Tell me, what was her occupation before the war?" She motions the young woman and he sighs.

"Florist."

Garrus has to hold back his exasperated growl rife with frustration and disbelief at the entire situation. His mate seems to unconsciously know his thoughts as she practically says what he's thinking. Granted, in her own special way.

"Oh. Wonderful," she says with a tone drowning in sarcasm as she smiles. "Next time I go into battle, I can wear flowers in my fucking hair." Her expression drops. "My guns don't run off rainbows and tulips, Alenko. You didn't even buy a refugee that can repay the debt. What am I supposed to do? Have her daughter scrubbing toilets while she makes a flower garden down here in the Bay?"

Irritated by her tone and condensation, Kaidan glares at her, crossing his arms. "At least I care enough about people to see them home. You'd just let them all suffer."

"So you decided to steal the Normandy's credits to sate your own need for a big pat on the back. Well, congratulations, you did it. You saved _two_ people from slavery and for what cost? Well, you used up the credits we could use for food or fuel. I'll be sure to tell the crew." Shaking her head, she takes a heavy breath to calm herself down and try to be civil, which is more than Garrus would be doing. He'll let her take the lead, though, as she obviously is already heading in a direction he would have taken himself. "No. I can't have that. You were the fucking XO, for Jesus' sake. It was your job to make sure the ship runs. Fuck man, that was your _only_ job! You weren't even going to ground!"

"Shepard… I can repay it-"

"With what, Kaidan," Garrus has to say, unable to stay quiet when the man spouts some of the worst ideas he's ever heard. "Just how much are you making as a Major that you can repay the Normandy, but couldn't buy them yourself?"

He frowns. "I meant-"

"It doesn't matter, Kaidan," she cuts him off, sighing with - could it be - understanding in her eyes? Sure, many years ago Garrus would have felt the same sense of loss at not being able to do anything, to stand back and let it all play out before his eyes, but the war has taken so much from them all. Fighting for nearly four years straight does that to a person. "I can't trust you not to put your feelings before common sense. I know that you want to save everyone, but that's just not how shit works."

"I…" Kaidan frowns and drops his head, nodding. "I understand. I don't think I will ever be able to look away like you can, but, for what it's worth, I am truly sorry for putting the crew in this predicament." Looking up to them, his lips curl in a sad smile as his eyes search her. "I hope maybe one day you can forgive me and we can move past this."

She nods and looks up to Garrus and, he knows, she is asking to reach an agreement. They have far too few friends to let a lapse in judgment get the better of them. It's not really how he'd like it, to just forgive, but he can do it for her. He just won't repeat the same mistake.

So, with that plea in her eyes, he nods and rumbles. His wife smiles in thanks as she turns to the man and nods again. "Yeah. Maybe one day-"

"Come on, mister Major!" The young girl calls, her hand in her mother's as she bounces in the light from a sky not as dark and ashen as the one over London.

Jane jerks her head towards the two silhouetted over the Cargo Bay ramp and he nods in understanding. "I'll send for my things as soon as I get them into Alliance care."

They agree just before he paints on a smile and rushes to meet up with the two females. As he passes from hearing, Garrus looks to his mate with a raised brow that she curtly nods to as she looks out to him disappearing into the crowd. "I can't trust him not to pull shit like that again. I won't lose credits we are using to try and keep this ship afloat."

"I didn't say anything," he merely says as he jerks his head towards the crowd with a rumble of question. "Ready to shoulder our way through the vultures."

Smirking, she nods and starts to walk to the voices growing louder with proximity and attention to their appearance. Shouts of demands and questions rise up from the flood of people all clambering over the other with shoves. He can't help think of a herd of Xemna all crowded into a too small pin trying to climb over the others and trampling them in the process.

"...Shepard! Shepard! Is it true that you've abandoned your own species for turians?..."

"...Do you plan on adopting more species?..."

"... Why not humans?..."

"...have to say to the threats…"

"... What do you have to say about the allegations that the Hierarchy and Alliance were working alongside the krogan against the other species?..."

"...Did you really leave Thessia to burn?..."

"...do you have to say about the 'abomination' that is your marriage with a species your very own was in conflict with not too long ago?..."

"...Why have you refused to participate in the war against the batarians?..."

"... Why have you given up on your species?..."

It all washes over them as they shove, none too gently, through the crowds. Let them say what they will, it doesn't matter. There are none that would be stupid enough to take away the children of Archangel and a woman who defied death itself who brought the machines thought immortal crashing down in their actual mortality.

Just when he begins to wonder when the ocean of people would never end, he feels a body slide up along his, keeping in pace with his own. A quick glance aside reveals a set of robes and long fringe that only belongs to one man that would think it smart to walk alongside them.

"I believe I may be able to assist," Arcanus says as his body is alight with blue, expanding around the three of them and shoving aside human onlookers. "I had not expected the two of you, but I must admit that it has its benefits."

"We thought you might be dead." Garrus sees the flick of mandible that portrays the actual truth in that statement. "Vosque had his own Suns turned against you."

"Yes, I know. Judging by your knowledge, I take it you took care of him?" He looks to them as his barrier aids their movement through the crowds, speeding up their ascent towards the Alliance past up the docks. "He will not be the last."

"What are your plans?" Jane asks as they come to an Alliance cordoned area - _where were these soldiers to assist? It's like the Alliance doesn't even care anymore. Makes three of us_ \- and the two of them turn to the older turian. "You plan on squashing any traitors?"

"How is my family," Garrus can't help but ask, worried that they might be in danger if the Blue Suns know they are, in any way, connected to the two of them.

"Your family, as I have heard, are already on a Hierarchy ship and heading back to the Apien Crest. I believe they were waiting until they had stable communications before contacting you." He hums as he crosses his arms behind his back, dropping the barrier. "Unfortunately, I do not see an easy solution to the other problem. I had always suspected my command would not last long as many have not before me and I know that my alliance with the two of you had angered many. However, I still have men loyal to me that have assisted me in disembarking from the Blue Suns." Jane lifts a brow as Garrus rumbles in subharmonic question, so the man explains, "The Blue Suns believe I have fallen to one of my competitor's men."

"So… what? You're leading a new merc company? That's fast."

Yet, Arcanus does not give the affirmative. Instead, he shakes his head with a rumble. "I do not yet have the necessary components to form an entirely new company. Thus, my men are free to take freelance work until I call on them to join us."

"Us?" Garrus asks with a raised brow, looking to his mate before the man again. "Who's 'us'?"

Reguix chuckles and motions them with a hand. "I was not expecting you to take my offer to join me to lightly, but know it still stands. Perhaps, when we are strong, we can run the company jointly."

A look to his wife actually reveals a considering look. True, they have wanted to get away from fighting, but if they could finally fight for themselves? That beats growing old and bored with retirement or being overworked fighting for politics that just rolls over them like they are merely puppets.

"Of course, that is not the sole purpose of our meeting," Arcanus says with a slight heaviness to his neck breath as he rumbles in honest question. "I have come to ask if I may join you once again. It would be a pleasant change to return to combat and shed the cloak of command, if even for a short time."

Chuckling, Jane shrugs. "Well, we were actually looking for an XO as our last one… well, we had a disagreement. I know it's still a type of command, but it's less work than commanding the entire Blue Suns in the middle of a war. _And_ you get your own quarters," she adds with an encouraging ring to her voice and coaxing smile and Garrus' chuckle and nod of agreement.

They receive a mandible flick of interest before he nods with a soft, gravelly rumble. "I would gladly assist you."


	38. Chapter 38

Garrus

Leaving Earth leaves them in a kind of still water between demands from the Council. It also gives them the opportunity to focus more on the situation they are in. Namely, how they are going to not just live on the Normandy, but make it fit to be home for themselves and their crew for the extended period they will be forced to endure Council demands until they find a way to disappear. If there is one thing living on a ship has taught them, it is that people could go stir crazy fast without any sort of luxuries.

Better to have the crew happy than at each other's throats.

During the war, the crew had the Lounge to play poker with and the open bar to have the occasional drink, the workout facility - even small as it was - to work off energy, or actual food in the Mess that raised spirits and provided the ground crew a place to pull together and share at least a meal a day. True, it was under Jane's orders at first and they still tried to continue the habit, but it just wasn't the same telling stories around a packet of rations or barely edible MREs.

However, finding such indulgences isn't as easy as just wanting them. Homeworlds are more focused on rebuilding their infrastructure, governments, and food supplies than offering what, to most - who had never been stuck on a spacefaring vessel for months at a time - were believed to be mere frivolities. Any request for rations of real food beyond the dehydrated MREs was denied before ever making it past the first responder, so they are forced to look to other means of finding that which would seem unnecessary to anyone but the entirety of the Normandy crew.

Their biggest problem is the fact that the war didn't leave too many options still standing and functioning at a high enough efficiency to find aid. Understanding that no species would willingly help, they have settled to having to buy their way into a life aboard the Normandy that would actually feel less like imprisonment and more like the lives of Spectres and their crew.

Question is, where, exactly, would have what they need?

Omega, as great as it was for weapons, armor, and ship supplies at a great price thanks to their connections with the Black Market through Harrot, doesn't have much beyond alcohol. Good food is one of the _last_ things that the station has been known for, so they knew better than to even try.

Most colonies were either destroyed, abandoned, or at a point of rebuilding where their people were more focused on feeding their own than outsiders. Even if they find one willing to offer food, it is their guess that the prices would be so high that they'd barely be able to purchase more than a few meals divided among the crew.

There were far too many established colonies that could boast the claim of being as sustained economically and structurally as a homeplanet and open to commerce. Except, that is, for Illium.

Turns out that, during the war, Illium was able to hold its own quite well against the Reaper forces and had been able to quickly recover and rebuild what little was affected. Most of its success went to the fact that they relied on no governing system beyond the power of money, leading them to acquiring a fleet and high powered fission weapons all their own to hold back the opposition. Where the war left homeplanets and colonies to rebuild, Illium was open and thriving off the commerce of a war torn galaxy and it was where the Normandy was heading, what few credits it had in hand.

Right now, there is the inevitable wait that came from traversing the distance between the Sol system and their destination. Even at FTL and using the Relays, travel takes time. Time that they are using to spend time with their children, forgetting the responsibilities thrown onto their shoulders in lieu of the comparably simple tasks of teaching their twins to speak or walk.

"Come on. That's it," Jane says sweetly and she walks slowly, bent over to hold their daughter's hands as she guides the infant along. "You're doing it!" Just as if she jinxed it, Cassia plops back down with a grunt and Garrus hears his wife playfully shout, "Uh oh!," to make their daughter laugh and grab at her larger hands.

He chuckles from where he sits on the couch and bounces Damocles on his lap. "She almost made it without losing balance," he says as he watches Jane help their daughter back up and the few steps to the bed.

She sits and picks up their daughter to sit down, infant in her lap as she smiles first at him, then Cassia. "Now it's time for your brother. Ready?" A tiny hand reaches for her hair and tangles in it as if in answer and her chuckle is soft and soothing. "Alright, let's watch."

"Alright, big guy," Garrus says as he stands up, setting their son on his feet and bending down to take his hand from behind. "Let's show them how it's done."

Jane snorts, but smiles as she watches their son take a few unsteady steps. Garrus rumbles and purrs in encouragement as he takes even slower steps, hands supporting their son. He knows his back will ache from this later, bending over so far not good for a back that has always given his trouble since his teenage years, but he doesn't care. This moment is just too valuable to stand aside and let his wife have all to herself. It is one thing to see their children reach this milestone and an entirely other to actually _be_ there for it, directly influencing it.

" _Hey. Sorry to interrupt."_ He ignores Joker's voice, he and Damocles barely a few steps from the couches, but hears it distantly anyways. " _But we found something you might want to hear."_

"What is it, Joker?" his wife asks from her seat on the couch, still smiling at their son's advancing across the smooth floor.

It is Aelia that answers, humming in concern over the intercom. _"We found a distress signal coming from the Lusarn System. A vessel named Helia's Glory has been attacked."_

At that, Garrus stops with a sigh and picks their son up, rumbling in apology to him with a forehead press. Damocles grips his scarred mandible, but he can still speak - if with a bit of a lisp - as he asks, "Is there not anyone else in the area to see to this?"

" _Not likely. So far, we haven't picked up on any responders' signals."_

"What species ship is this? Could it be another batarian ambush?" Jane stands to rock Cassia on her hip, her expression changing to the one she always wears when private life gives way to that of the Commander, to a task she has to tackle immediately.

" _Asari, ma'am."_ The turian female rumbles as she pauses, most likely looking into something on her terminal. " _It was on a diplomatic mission according to the reports from the Ascension when I checked with them to see if anyone has already been dispatched. Someone is still days out."_

"Fucking wonderful," she says, eyes closing and head shaking softly. He knows her frustration well, shares it, but knows they won't just turn away. Selfish in their wish to just get away from everything involving running around for others, they are also aware that angering the ones that already are making their lives hell would get them nowhere. Besides, maybe assisting diplomats would lead to them 'owing' the two Spectres, but he wouldn't hold his breath of that happening.

"Sounds like a change of plans," he says with disappointment, wishing they could just say no. As much as it wishes it, they just haven't become _that_ heartless, though they are rapidly growing closer. "Should I alert a ground team?"

His wife nods with a heavy sigh of irritation and defeat, rubbing their daughter's back when she hears the confused trill. Not even one yet and they can already read their parent's so well. He only wonders how many more surprises the two have for their parents as they grow - hopefully somewhere that isn't a ship in constant battle.

"Aelia. Joker. Go in silent and get us a read on that ship. I don't want this going tits up before we even know what hit us." Turning to him when the intercom goes silent with affirmatives, she frowns slightly. "Guess we call this walking lesson short."

He understands her disappointment completely. If not for their luck of always having to pull others out of their own personal fires, they would be able to spend the time they've earned with their most precious gifts. The universe just doesn't seem to be able to hold itself together without them, however.

"Should I head down to get together a team? Odds are never in our favor," he adds, sure that they will either be forced to board this ship or land on a nearby planet to assist in some way.

She nods and kisses their daughter's forehead. "Tell Rym to suit up with us and Arcanus. She's been wanting on a drop and this is her chance." Sighing, she heads to a nursery half built and talks softly to Cassia in her arms. "Shh shh. Mommy and daddy will just be gone for a short while. Then we can try again."

Garrus soon follows up the steps to place Damocles to bed, or at least put him in the crib safely before they find someone on the crew ready and willing to watch the twins for them. Purring to the little being in his hands, he gently nibbles the soft plate at Damocles' forehead. "Time to go, little one, but don't worry. We'll be back before you know it."

It's painful to set the babies into their cribs, their arms hesitant to release the tiny forms when small hands cling and vocals whimper in want. His heart aches and vocals keen softly in sadness when his son and daughter look to them with wide, pleading eyes and using the crib to support themselves as they trill and keen for attention.

"Sorry, babies," Jane says with a deep sadness in her voice, caressing each of their heads with her hands before kissing each forehead. "Mommy and daddy love you."

Garrus rumbles in agreement as he lays a hand on his wife's back. "It's okay, Jane." He knows he isn't fooling her in being strong, knows that she hears his own pain at having to part - even if just for a short time - but she doesn't speak of it.

Leaning towards them, he gently eases them to sit in their cribs because he worries for their safety standing on wobbly legs. They chirp at the touch and grab onto his hand, but he pulls it from their grasp, rubbing a knuckle under each chin before stepping away. He has to fight his eyes from turning back as he and Jane step around the support structure of the wall not yet installed and out of the door, ignoring the heartbreaking cries of their children to not go.

"Fuck," his wife breathes when the lift doors close on them, closing her eyes as she lays her head back against the cold wall. "I hate that sound. It hurts so bad."

He hums sadly and nods, frowning at the memory of the sobs that they hate to hear each time they must leave them alone if just for a moment. He's read that it isn't detrimental - and even beneficial - to let babies cry, to work things out on their own, but damn if it isn't traumatic for the parents like Jane and himself.

"Yeah," he agrees as he looks to her to see her emerald eyes open and frown soften as she tries to push it aside, tell herself it's not forever. "I know what you mean. Even after hearing it and knowing they will be okay, I still hate to hear them cry."

She merely nods in agreement as she stands straight and opens her Tool, tapping into the commands to pull up a comm link. It takes a moment before the other side of the call is answered, the image of James appearing with a huge grin. "Hey, Lola. I hear we are heading to _another_ side mission. You think we'd catch a break, yeah?"

That actually makes the two of them chuckle as she shrugs. "You know us, bad luck coming out our asses. Look, I'm calling to ask if you're okay watching the kids."

"A chance to play with the little _gemelos?_ Why would I ever say no?" There is a shuffle and clink on the other side as he stops whatever he was doing, looking aside before back to the comm. "I'll head up right now," he says with a bit too much enthusiasm for Garrus not to suspect that Vega has way more fun playing with two children than going to ground with the squad.

Snorting as she closes the call, Jane looks to him. "I'm starting to think he's going to turn in his N designation for a full-time babysitter title."

"Well, he _did_ raise a Harvester from an egg."

She laughs as she taps the Cargo Bay level, skipping the Crew Deck to collect their team immediately for a swap with James and suit up. Besides, they can always comm Rym and Arcanus to suit up.

"I swear, this ship runs on bullshit," she says as starts to mess with her hair, pulling it back and twisting it up to get it out of her way from the mission. "There isn't one person on this ship that doesn't talk out their ass."

He merely chuckles and bumps his head to her shoulder as she works up until the lift stops and doors slide open to the sight of an excited Lieutenant James Vega. "James," Garrus greets the man as they swap places and the man's broad hand hovers over the command. "Feel free to take them out of the Cabin, but let Harrot know. We want to get the alterations done as soon as possible."

Vega mock salutes before punching the console. "Can do! You guys have fun down there," he teases, getting a snort from the redhead in response as she flips a hand gesture over her shoulder that makes the man bark a laugh just as the doors shut.

"You seemed to have picked that up from Jack." He follows her to the armory, pulling his suit from its storage crate and stripping to pull on his undersuit.

"Want to know what else I've learned?" That smirk of hers speaks of no good as he raises a brow in intrigue, though he knows it can't be good. "Fuck off or kiss my ass. Your choice."

He snorts as he tugs at her shirt she's pulling over her head to make her stumble a bit. "Maybe later," he purrs in tease, chuckling when she tosses her shirt at him. Jokes aside, he still stops to stare at her when her pants come off in that quick moment before she grabs and tugs on her undersuit, growling because he knows she likes it.

"Oh, knock it off," she says with little threat, smirking over her shoulder while she zips up her suit and grabs his boot to shove at his chest. "And get suited up. I'll comm the others."

" _Shepard_ ," Joker calls over the comm. " _We have news on the situation."_

"Let's hear it." Her Omni-Tool comes out as she quickly taps in her orders.

Aelia is the one to explain, as she must be the one controlling the readouts of the _Helia's Glory_ and the surrounding space for hostiles. " _There are no signs of an ambush awaiting us, but the Glory shows no signs of life and has sustained major hull damage. Their escape pods have been deployed."_

He hums as he pulls on his armor one piece at a time, his wife beginning to do the same with a jerk of her head to the Lift in silent 'they're coming'. "Do you know where they must have landed?"

" _Pod distress signals are garbled, but they are all coming from a planet named Tarith. Best bets would be to take the shuttle to the large cluster of signals."_ Her tone says that there is more she is soon discovering from the ship's readings. " _There's more."_

"Spit it out, Aelia," Jane orders gruffly as she tugs at a strap of her leg guard, trying to get it tight enough to close the clasps. Garrus sees her struggle and bends down to help her, rumbling when he gets the bunch out of it and snaps it closed. When he sees her nod of thanks and smile, he returns it with a gentle touch of his head as he stands up.

_"_ _Get suited up with helmets and plenty of oxygen. Tarith's atmosphere has high levels of chlorine gas."_

"Shit… Any other environmental hazards?"

" _No. I think the gas is enough,_ " she points out with a rumbling chuckle. " _But if you'd like something more challenging, I can find you a chlorine swamp to trudge through."_

"No, thanks. The gas is bad enough." Rolling her shoulders, she shifts on her feet in something he's found his wife does before going into a possibly hostile situation ever since her legs were replaced with prosthetics. Perhaps, he figures, she has to work out the slight numbing effect of the cybernetic connection like he has to do with his own arm when he flexes his fingers or wrist.

The intercom goes silent as the pilots begin to prepare for a decent and drop, but their attention is drawn to their own squad when the elevator arrives to the Bay. Rym seems ready for battle, not speaking or wasting time as she heads directly to her set up to get suited. Garrus has to wonder if it's a krogan thing because she acts much like Grunt did aboard the ship or if it's really more a sign of their youth. Wrex seemed more cautious, calculating, when they would drop, but, then again, even he had that energy about him that spoke of his readiness for battle.

Arcanus heads to his own locker and opens it, a suit that he had purchased during the war that he had taken when he disembarked within. He removes his robes and neatly folds them up to place them aside to return to later before unhooking the rings in his mandibles and laying them atop the folded cloth. Next is his undersuit that he pulls on with the same amount of care and efficiency, one that makes Garrus reconsider the fact that it's just krogan that seem eager when he and Jane has thrown on their own armor - and always have - in record time.

"Alright," Jane starts as she grabs everyone's weapons, sorting them out for when they are ready. "Here's the basics. A ship transporting some politicians or some such shit has been attacked. They deployed their escape pods and have landed on nearby Tarith. We need you all to wear masks and seal your suits because we're going to be around chlorine gas."

"What attacked the ship?" Rym asks as she grabs her helmet, hooking it to her suit for later.

"We don't know," Garrus answers, holstering his sniper rifle and handing Arcanus his weapon. He motions the shuttle pilot over from his station where he prepares for a drop out of basic observation of the squad suiting up. When the man arrives, Garrus explains. "Cortez. You will take us in the shuttle to the highest concentration of pod beacons first so we can check for signs of life."

Steve nods. "She's up and ready to go. I just need to get suited up."

"Do it," Jane agrees before looking to the others, her Claymore on her back as she grabs her helmet. "We don't know what's down there, so be alert and ready for anything. There's no clue if whatever attacked the ship is down there or even _who_ it is and what they have against the _Glory,_ but we're going to find out real quick when we drop. Questions?"


	39. Chapter 39

Jane

They lacked any visuals of the terrain of Tarith outside the shuttle is nothing but the thick green haze of the chlorine gas, all that can be seen are the scarce spires of dense rock formations jutting from the fog. How, according to readings of the planet's surface, someone was able to set up some kind of facility was a mystery she'd like to know. Of course, perhaps the lack of any signs of said settlers was just as telling as any questions she could have asked. With hopes, it was just abandoned and not devoid of life due to something living on the planet, but her hopes didn't often pan out, so it'd be best to be aware.

The faster they closed in on the cluster of signals, the more obvious it became that they probably weren't going to come out of this with too many survivors. Already, they were leaving the smaller pod signals to, quite literally, die because they just didn't have the time, supplies, or transport for a ship full of dignitaries and the _Glory's_ working crew. No, their best bet was to the largest collection of escape pods, fit as many as they could aboard the shuttle, and get the hell out of dodge.

Jane could only guess what fit Alenko would have thrown had he known of their plan. Whether or not he realized the Normandy could neither land in this dense gas nor could the shuttle make continuous trips into the unknown for strangles, she knows he would think of a way to sacrifice something of the Normandy's for the sake of a few politicians. In a way, it's better he remain on Earth where there still remains those who share his views than aboard a ship where nearly everyone on it either trusts in hers and Garrus' judgment, or just outright doesn't give shit unless it concerns them.

The most they get from those who would have objections is a mere downturned frown, but they knew the price of distractions, of going the extra mile would get all of them. They all learned that the hard ways during the war are starting to see it in this dark galaxy the Reapers left in their wake. It wasn't just Jane and her mate that were willing to do anything to just make it all stop, to spare themselves the continued turmoil of having to live the dark, cold truth of the present universe. Even if they didn't want to be the ones to make the hard decisions, many of them silently agreed.

It was, after all, their lives or the lives of those that would merely forget their existence, their predicament, the moment they were in the safety of their perfect Destiny Ascension and lies of normalcy. She isn't surprised that her crew silently, reluctantly, turned away from the very ones who would turn a blind eye to them. _Better us first than them later._

At least they have one thing in their favor in that this squad wouldn't have any qualms about what they were about to do and, more importantly, what they _weren't_ going to do. Rym, despite her outward charity towards her own people and those close to her, was still, deep down, a warrior as any other krogan. She knows the price of life is always death of the self or another and that only the strong survive. Arcanus? Well, he was a merc, through and through. If there is no benefit, he does not see the reason for the extra effort.

Neither questions the logic of the fact that the less effort and time they spend trying to find those most likely already dead or dying in the chlorine gas, the better. This will be as in and out as they can manage while planning for extra usage of their oxygen when the inevitable fight surrounds them.

"Cortez? What's our ETA?" She snaps her helmet on with a soft hiss and watches her team do the same, Rym hitting the top of hers in building anticipation for their drop.

"Closing in now, Shepard." He is already in a pressurized flight suit and matching helmet, too focused on piloting to deal with the luxury and risk of waiting. "There seems to be a communication relay nearby. I suggest you find the crew and reach it to call for pickup."

Garrus turns his black helmet towards the pilot before stepping to the cockpit door way. "You're thinking our comms won't work," he says more than asks and even Jane sees Steve's shake of his head.

"It's not that, sir. We got hostiles in the area, don't know what yet, and trying to navigate the fog to the ground to pick you up will be risky." He taps the readouts of his console just as Jane heads up to see him then point to a structure - man-made - in the distance. "That's the communication tower. It's on higher ground where the fog is less concentrated."

Sighing, she has to reluctantly agree. She had expected that they'd drop from the shuttle as it's hovering because it was just safer to get moving and get the shuttle out into the air before anything targeted it, so the terrain hadn't registered as a problem. Now that he's stated what should be obvious, it makes stupidly perfect sense for the need to get to higher and flatter ground. Unless, of course, they and those they've come down for suddenly knew how to sprout wings and fly up to the shuttle compartment.

"Just fucking great," Jane says as she pats her husband's shoulder to follow as it's time to get ready for their drop by the slowing outside the front view screen. "Do we have anyway to get there?"

"There looks to be a path." Steve's voice comes through their comms as he sets up the channel and links them in. "See that blue light? The one that bends around that formation of rock?"

"We do," Rym says as she looks at the tiny screen of the camera situated on the outside hull. "Some sort of path from the mining operation?"

"Looks like it. Would make sense if they lead there, a way to connect the facility through the chlorine gas," Garrus says as the shuttle slows to a stop, the door sliding open. "Now's a good of time as any to see."

"And if not?" Even if he can't see it, Jane raises a brow within her helmet is skepticism.

He merely shrugs before jumping down onto a rock surface just above the densest of the smog, immediately climbing down into the thick gases, and beyond her line of sight, in order to open the way for the next. Looking to Arcanus, she motions him next. "Shield our path in case there's anything waiting for us down there."

The older man nods and follows the same path her mate had taken, climbing down a path in the rocks that she nor Rym can see from the shuttle. She has to go off of trust in Garrus knowing what he's doing - which can be a scary thought considering they tend to _not_ plan shit out - but trust in him is not something she lacks, so she doesn't hesitate when she jumps down after the krogan woman. With an alert to Cortez to get into the sky and ready for their summons, she climbs down into the haze as seemingly thick as water.

When she passes through the shimmering blue of a biotic barrier, she knows she is close to the ground. In fact, so close, that, when hands wrap around her waist to help her down, she yelps and practically falls the next few feet to the solid ground. All three of the squad chuckle - yes, even the usually quiet Arcanus - as she turns to Garrus, the only one daring enough to do such a fucking stunt, and swats the front of his chest plate with a glare beneath her helmet.

"Ouch," he jokes with a rub to his chest and mock trill of pain. "You wound me."

"Remind me not to shoot you," she retorts as she pulls her weapon, the others following without a word. Looking around, she whistles in her helmet, a bit of awe mixed with exasperation at the fact that this mission is already turning sideways, and sees both turians wince at the sound. "Oh, calm down. Big babies."

"My ears are bleeding," Garrus mock complains, but she cuts him off. They need to focus on the mission and she knows they'll live the minor annoyance of her vocalization.

"They weren't kidding when they said this haze would blind us," she motions the few meters ahead of them where the chlorine gas creates a wall of solid yellowish green. "Everyone stick together. We don't need to go looking for you too."

She doesn't wait for their nods, knowing they'd have to be suicidal, stupid, or both to actually lose visuals in a place like this. Heading forward, she sees something in the mist, something dark and at least the size of their shuttle. _Escape pod_.

Motioning Rym to check it, she walks past it and holds a defensive line while Garrus watches over her shoulder and Arcanus watches their six. Even from where she is, she can tell the pod has been abandoned, whoever was inside perhaps stumbling off into the haze in shock from the crash or an attempt to find others or rescue. A dumb idea, but there isn't always the luxury of logic when people don't know if they'll ever be rescued.

"I found a body," the korgan says as she pulls out a semblance of a hanar corpse, its color a milky pink and body leaving a slimy trail where she pulls it out of the pod. Dropping it at their feet, the girl looks at her hands with a sound that sounds oddly like a 'ugh' of disgust.

"It has been dead for a number of days," Reguix says, turning from it to look into the smog. "I do not believe they were adequately equipped for this environment."

"That's what chlorine does to a hanar?" He nods and Jane cringes with a sound mimicking the one from the krogan just moments before.

The best way to describe the hanar isn't decaying in a normal sense that a human or other, non-aquatic species, would is that it seems to be… melting. A white mold grows on it and its form looks like it's a second from bursting like a balloon into wet sludge. She doesn't even want to imagine the smell.

"Let's keep moving. There has to be survivors somewhere."

"Look." Garrus pulls their attention as he hums and lowers his weapon, pointing above the fog to a new path of light extending from and bending away from the previous. "Someone is activating the beacons. They must be heading towards the communications tower."

Hefting her weapon up, she starts to proceed. "Then that's where we're headed."

"And if it's not survivors?"

She looks over her shoulder to Rym, smirking under her helmet. "Then we leave no survivors of whoever _is_ turning them on."

The woman at her back chuckles, letting her lead on with Garrus directly behind the group and Arcanus at her side. Should it come time for battle against whatever they find - Jane having the mind to expect whoever they're tracking to turn whatever weapons they have on them out of fear and caution - she can trust the biotic turian to throw up a barrier to give them time to find cover behind the large boulders jutting from the ground along their path.

They travel deeper into the fog, finding signs of more bodies. Among the few hanar left to rot in the chlorine are an asari that must have sustained a wound from the crash and a human whose suit and skin beneath had been left charred. He looked better off, Jane thought, when she saw that he had only a half mask instead of a full helmet. That gas was bound to have been burning his eyes to the point of blindness.

"Looks like there's something on this planet, after all."

As if her words summoned the very thing responsible for their suspicions, they hear a loud, shrill bellowing and see a shadow concealed in the fog lift from the ground. She may not have much expertise in this subject or creature, but she knows enough from the few times facing the natural thing and the many fighting the Reaper version to completely believe and agree with Rym when she shouts. "Harvester!"

Garrus growls and begins to back up the rise as Reguix throws up a barrier over Jane and Rym lifting their shotguns. Where a natural Harvester is, there are those annoying little parasites - or whatever they are to it - nearby and hunting for something whose day to fuck up. "Think your barrier works against fire?"

The man's dark charcoal helmet looks to her with a scoff, as if insulted at her lack of faith and she shrugs. _Better safe than sorry._ He doesn't respond and instead points his weapon towards the incoming shadows scuttling over the dirt and rocks.

The loud blast of Garrus' rifle takes down own as Jane throws a Dominate at another to send it clawing and screeching at one of its own directly beside it. She watches another explode into flames at the same time she hears another shot from her right and sees Rym walking just to the edge of the blue bubble to slide her weapon pass the barrier, and within a meter of the enemy, before pulling the trigger.

"You will have to show me what it is you just did," Arcanus says to her side as he targets another, slowly walking with them as they advance.

"Trade secret, I'm afraid." Pulling a duo of Klixen into the air, she shoots one to let it explode and take out the other. "I can see a beacon ahead! Push forward!"

Growing impatient, it seems, Rym storms out of the barrier, grabs a Klixen by its antenna with a foot solidly pressed to the center of its head and yanks as she pushes. It's ripped apart with a loud shriek as Rym then kicks it into the incoming group, using its body as a weapon. When she steps back into the protective barrier, Jane smirks in her helmet and nods in 'damn good work' and the woman merely grunts with a nod of her own.

"Arcanus, lower the barrier. Save your energy," she says with full knowledge that they may not know how many waves they will face. Whatever stores he may have, they need to push ahead with the same amount of fight as now for even the very last battle.

She charges forward to show Rym how it's done when a shot whizzes by her head and sends her target into a billion flaming pieces. Knowing exactly who that was, she snaps her head over her shoulder. "You quite done showing off?"

"No," her mate responds with a rumble of amusement, taking another shot that ends with a wet explosion. "Scratch one."

Knowing that their only option is to push forward, they round the fresh bodies and head forward. There's nothing can do for the dead and they can't stop and wait for another wave of Klixen or they'd never move towards the comm tower. What the bodies do tell them, however, is that the numbers of hanar greatly outnumber the counting asari. Whatever this ship was heading to do, it's obvious it must have been a transport of the Illuminous Assembly, or whatever such shit the hanar high command was called.

When they reach a new beacon, she gives Rym the freedom to check an open Omni-Tool so long as she's quick about it. The Tool is found on an asari's arm blasted a meter away from her body by a Klixen attack and, though it takes a big to navigate, they find a recording.

" _This is Heria Y'zani. I am, was, a soldier aboard the Helia's Glory. We were shot down by - Goddess, I can't believe I'm saying this - Geth."_ Jane raises a brow and looks to her mate, who seems intent on listening as he looks off into the smog. _"I don't know why, but a Geth ship cornered and fired on us. We had no option but to use the escape shuttles, but, dammit, we didn't know this place was toxic. Not that we had a choice… The members of the Illuminated Primacy are dying from the gases on this planet. We're trying all we can, but we were already down to five guards and two hanar."_ Looking at the body, she goes to check it for anything else associated with this recording, maybe a comm within the helmet that's still working despite the flames. " _I'm hurt from those damn bugs, burned on my back. I'm… I'm going to stay behind with one of the hanar to try and help it, but I don't think we'll make it… Oh Goddess… I hear more. At least… at least I can buy the others some time."_

"It cuts off after that," Rym says as she stands. "Did you find a comm, Shepard?"

The face beneath the helmet is scared, but determined in her final moments of death despite the deep, angry burns. Whatever she expected when she was posted aboard the _Glory_ , Jane is pretty sure it hadn't meant dying on a planet where you could barely see your hand in front of your face and at the hands - claws, pincers, whatever - of Klixen. She turns the helmet to look for the comm, but shakes her head. "Whatever was working, it's not know. The flames made it through the visor and seals."

"We should keep moving," her mate finally says, looking away from the distance. "They are still moving."

The other turian nods and looks from the blue lights in the distance. "They are at least three beacons ahead and, it seems, close to the communications relay."

"Then let's double time it." Gripping her weapon, she starts off slow to ensure their heavy bootsteps are following before speeding up.

The signs of battle are more obvious with each passing beacon, guards or blood left behind and passing by as they round around the dead where they have fallen. If the asari soldier's report is correct, the numbers are waning by the second and they are in desperate need of both backup and extraction. She can only guess what shit they'd be in if they return without even a single hanar diplomat to the Normandy's name.

It's when they see the communications beacon towering overhead that they hear the 'whoomf' of an explosive launching over their heads. Instinctively dropping into a slide from her momentum and hearing the others drop in their own manners, she feels their protection from another surround them just as the grenade explodes against the shimmering blue field.

"Hold your fire! We're friendlies!"

At least the weapons' fire stops long enough for someone to yell back, "Who the hell are you?! State your business!"

"Saving your sorry asses!" Rym says for her as Jane gets to her feet, holding her weapon at the ready just in case. The voice sounds female, and they're speaking Standard - which is predominantly asari - but that could mean a number of things.

Holding a hand to still the krogan, Jane calls out this time. "We're the crew of the Normandy under orders of the Council." A little lie doesn't hurt considering they would probably have been sent to do this anyway, she considers. "I'm Spectre Shepard and Spectre Vakarian and my crew are here to evacuate you."

"Proceed, but I'm watching you," the voice says and they slowly begin to climb the steep incline towards the thinning fog while Reguix maintains the barrier. _I'm starting to like the little forcefield I get to walk around in. Wonder if it'll keep people from trying to always shoot us._

Fog thins to allow them the first glimpse of those they have come here to rescue, of which remains an injured asari propped up to watch the rear, two near death hanar flopped at the knees of an asari medic trying desperately to tend to them, and a heavily armed asari with a brightly painted grenade launcher in her hands and a suspicious scowl on her face. Both are pointed directly at them.

"Nice weapon," Jane she motions it.

"It's even better in getting a job done," the woman responds with a jerk of her helmet towards the injured. "You got a way out of here or something?"

"Rym?" She doesn't need to say more as the krogan woman knows what is needed, heading towards the communications relay to see if she can get a channel open. Hell, if there is a way, she'll find it. Of that, Jane has no doubt after seeing all the work she's put into repairing the AI Core. "Tell me what happened?"

"We were shot down by damn Geth."

"And here I thought we'd be done with Geth problems," Garrus sighs with a shake of his head as Reguix drops the barrier.

"I don't know what's with the bastards," the asari continues, shaking her helmeted head. "They just showed up out of nowhere and didn't respond to any of our communication hails. Then they closed in and opened fire before we even had the chance to get out of our bunks. Are ship was a transport, not a warship."

A shrill roar goes over the air, calling their heads around the perimeter to find the source. "We can share theories later," Garrus says as he moves to watch the edge of the haze for signs of life. "We have hostiles."

"You better have a way off this shithole," the woman looks over to Jane as she shares her cover, Arcanus taking another closer to Rym to watch her and their backs.

"Not really."

"You better be joking."

"Fine." Jane smiles under her mask as she throws a Dominate into the group followed by a Shockwave. "We can take the shuttle."

She hears the 'fwomp' of the launcher beside her and the resulting explosion before the woman speaks against. "Then let's kill these bastards so I can get the hell off this rock."


	40. Chapter 40

Garrus

"Rym! Where the fuck is that shuttle!"

A rain has started to fall through the thick haze and Garrus thanks whatever deities were around that the hanar are already unconscious; even if that, unfortunately, meant they are so close to death. Whatever they are already suffering from exposure to the gas is only exasperated by the seemingly unassuming droplets that streak down his visor and start to burn into the milky, thin membrane of the dying invertebrate species.

The continuous Klixen attacks are not helping either, their numbers constantly replenished by the flying Harvester that would return and land within the foggy distance. Tension is high and he can tell they are at the point where they need to start counting heatsinks. Even the biotics are starting to show signs of exhaustion, his wife using her shotgun more than her powers, the already injured asari now unable to incapacitate and slow the oncoming enemies, and Arcanus not maintaining a solid barrier except when Klixen got too close. He knows they'll all need to eat to rebuild their stored energy and there is no break in the enemy line as far as Garrus could see.

"Communications up!" Rym answers his mate easily enough, but it's obvious there's a problem with their exit.

"Jane, we need to get rid of that damn Harvester or the shuttle can't land."

"Fuck," his wife curses as she punches a Klixen before sending it flying into a group with a Shockwave to explode. "It's Bryson's dig site all over again! Fucking Harvesters!" With the slight break in the numbers, she rolls her shoulders and motions Arcanus to throw up a barrier on their twelve. "Alright, we've taken down plenty Reaperized Harvesters, we can take on this one. Uh…"

When she looks to the grenadier, the woman understands the silent question and nods, introducing herself. "Sephone. That's Lieutenant Levestis." Said Lieutenant looks unconscious where she leans against one of the pillars of the Relay, her violet blood staining the dirt a dark black. "And Medical Officer D'nalas. What do you need us to do?"

"You," Jane corrects and motions the half-dead Lieutenant. "She's seen better days and probably isn't able to hear us and your medical officer needs to focus on the hanar." Looking said officer, she motions the two dignitaries barely holding on. "I don't care how you do it, but you need to keep them alive." The woman, panicked by the hectic way her hands move over the two beings that look like they're moments away from bursting into a melting blob of what used to be living tissue. "No. I just need your grenade launcher. Think you can hit that Harvester when we work on its armor plating?"

Sephone snorts and loads a grenade into her weapon painted brightly with blue waves under a purple and pink sky. "You kidding? I can hit the bastard out of the sky!"

"Rym," Garrus starts to order as they hear the flapping wings of the Harvester closing in. "Guard the tower and the hanar from Klixen. Send out a hail to Cortez at the exact moment it falls."

"Right," his mate agrees as she reloads her weapon in the short break they have to plan this out. "We need to bug out before more Klixen come to investigate."

Nodding and reloading his own weapon, he looks to the older turian. "Create a barrier between us and the incoming Klixen while Sephone and I work on the Harvester."

The man nods and looks out to where a shadow begins to appear in the distance and closing in, but Jane is the one to look at her mate with a jerk of her hand towards the incoming Harvester. "I can help whittle that bastard down."

Garrus shakes his head. Now is not the time for her to work her biotics to the point of passing out on the field when they need to make a break of the shuttle the instant it is close enough to climb in. "Clear out the incoming Klixen," he orders as he brings up his weapon to follow the incoming shadow. This will take strategy and, well, Jane isn't always the best at said ability to divide attentions. "Rym has our six while Arcanus provides barriers. Your job is to direct them to the ground while we work on the Harvester before it can take flight."

Her sigh speaks to her frustration, but she doesn't argue and he knows that she'd only give away control, let someone talk her out of being at the forefront of every fight, solely because of her trust in him and his capabilities. "Let's just hope the bastard is close enough for that grenade launcher."

"What do you humans say? Piece of pie?" She shrugs without needing answer at this inopportune moment, she pats her grenade belt over her shoulder. "Belisama and I got it."

Jane snorts, snaps to attention when they hear the bellowing roar of the Harvester, landing just at the fringe of their clear visuals before everything else is swallowed by the thick haze. Garrus knows that the Klixen it carries on its body are not too far from their position as he hefts his Mantis to his eye, but he can't worry about their approach and knows that those assigned to the crowd control will do their job with the efficiency of a well-oiled machine. It's his partner, however, that he has worry for due to their lack of ever working together.

 _Now's the moment of truth,_ he thinks as he targets one of the four eyes and fires. The shot lands expertly and, as he pops the heat sink for another, the said eye goes dim, no longer able to reflect the sparse light cutting through the atmosphere. He brings up his weapon and fires again, at the second eye along the same side and hears its scream as it turns to them.

"Damn. You're fast with that thing," Sephone raises her weapon and fires as the Harvester begins to stalk towards them. Her grenade lands at its spindly legs and makes it stumble before it flaps its multiple wings to rebalance.

At least, he considers, the closing distance is offering the woman a better chance at hitting anywhere vital because, with where it is now, he's the only one working on its defenses as he fires again. She reloads and fires again when the creature rights itself, hitting it again in the legs to make it fall lower, crushing some Klixen as Garrus sees through his scope.

Not that is lessens their numbers by much. If anything, the Harvester must have known that their reserves are thinning and their need to escape off-planet growing as the number of varren sized parasites it brought on its back have at least doubled in number. It is only affirmation that his plan to focus his wife's attention on the Klixen was a good one.

"Hurry up and drop the fucker!" Jane shouts over the comm as she resorts to tactics of using her weapon as a blunt weapon before jumping out of the blast radius. "We _need_ off this goddamn planet!"

"Working on it," he growls as he fires again, taking down a third eye and leaving only one that the creature can use to target them on its charge. He can tell the shots to its eyes and legs - which are starting to make contact with its chest and rising the closer is comes - are starting to weaken it, but he isn't sure how much closer it will get before they manage to take it out.

It's when he sees through the scope that Klixen are starting to turn and attack the legs of the thing that he realizes his own wife is helping without breaking from her own battle. He sends her a mental thanks as he watches the Harvester limp up the rise to their position and motions the asari grenadier to speed up her attack. Slow to reload or not, that grenade launcher is their most powerful weapon thanks to his own Widow being long gone to whatever distant edge of the universe it has found itself in.

Firing into the last eye it has, Garrus hears the shrilling scream as it throws its head back to give Sephone a shot at its neck with her launcher. Yet, it still comes, stumbling and tripping over the exploding Klixen at its feet as its dying body releases clicks and chitters of a language they can never understand.

It's when he sees it drop down its head to roar at them that he gets an idea, one that will only have a moment to get right before the Harvester is right on top of them. Turning to the asari he grabs a grenade off her bandoleer and ignores her squawk of anger as he shoves a finger to her weapon. "Hand it over."

"Screw you!"

"Trust me or I'll take it," he threatens with a growl and look towards the incoming Harvester and Klixen, Arcanus' and Jane's attentions dividing between the two in attempts to slow them before they are overwhelmed. Snarling at the thought of his wife being on the front lines if it closes on the barrier, he grabs the woman's hand and adds pressure to her wrist as he twists, making her yelp in pain as her weapon drops. She has no chance of fighting him off or resisting - and that was without using his artificial arm.

He snatches the weapon up and quickly reloads, leaving his own weapon at his feet as he raises the launcher. It's a short wait before the Harvester gives him the opening he was looking for, dropping its head to spread its wings and emit a loud, trilling roar.

He fires, sending a grenade towards and into its mouth. There's a clicking, a sort of ticking sound, coming from the creature's throat just before the grenade goes off, blasting the Harvester's long, slender neck apart. Head and chunks of gore go flying, landing on his unfortunate wife and squadmate up front and showering the ground around them before its body even collapses to crush Klixen beneath its weight.

Garrus turns to the asari as she stands still, helmet staring at the rising dust around the fallen body, and hands her back her weapon. "Rym?"

"Order's out. ETA, two minutes and fifteen seconds."

"Fucking hell," Jane says over the comm as she raises her arms and shakes them off, sending chunks of slimy exoskeleton and innards off her armor.

"A warning would have been preferred," Arcanus adds as he wipes off his helmet and checks his weapon quickly before scanning the distance for more Klixen.

Garrus rumbles in apology as he loops his hand in the air, calling them to regroup and close their numbers. "We still have Klixen out there, so be ready."

They all group up around the injured, the medic trying to stop the blood loss of their Lieutenant as it seems she's done all she can for the hanar diplomats. Whether or not they will make it still remains to be seen, but Garrus doesn't hold high hopes for the two that look to be about one breath away from dissolving into nothing but a puddle of pinkish goo.

"Garrus," Jane says as she examines the injured. "We need to carry them to the shuttle."

Humming, he looks over the crew and then the injured. "Rym will take the Lieutenant and you and I will take the hanar. Reguix will provide cover with his biotics so we can get on the shuttle."

"Ever thought we'd be relying on a merc for cover?" She chuckles and he knows she's smirking under her helmet as she glances his way.

" _Former_ merc, Jane."

"Do you often speak of me when you believe yourselves alone?" Arcanus fires his weapon at an approaching Klixen just before a grenade goes flying into the fray. "I am honored."

"Oh, trust me," Jane says with a seductive tone to her voice. "You'd be more than honored if you heard what we say and do when you aren't around."

"Don't give him nightmares, Jane," Garrus jabs with a chuckle as the shuttle circles their position, scoping out a landing zone. "Eyes up. Are ride's here."

His wife roughly pats his shoulder as she rushes back to the injured. He follows, leaving the asari grenadier and Arcanus to cover them as Rym hefts the Lieutenant off the ground and shoves Levestis unused weapon into the hands of the medic. "You know how to shoot, right?"

D'nalas, if Garrus remembers correctly, looks at the weapon and nods. Though she doesn't look the type to man a weapon, the pistol in her hands isn't too difficult to learn. Besides, as long as she aims at a Klixen and pulls the trigger without shooting any of them, she'll have done her job. The answer convinces the krogen enough that she holsters her weapon to better carry the unconscious asari and start to head to the clearest ground available in expectation that Cortez will have the same idea.

That leaves himself and his wife to the hanar and, as he approaches, he sees that the task is easier said than done. Any touch looks like it will destroy the delicate barrier keeping the hanar together and, when his wife bends to heft one's tentacles over her shoulders, they _come right off_ in her hands. "Shit!" She jerks back and her boot makes an audible squelch as it sinks into another tentacle, oozing up over her sole. "Fucking shitballs."

"Just… Do what you can," he says as he crouches and scoops his hands under the bulk of the dying politician. _If_ it is, if fact, even still alive, but he is seriously beginning to doubt that.

The majority of the hanar in his arms stays together, if but less firm in its body's form than he's come to expect from the species, and he motions with a nod of his head for her to do the same. The idea of carrying two dead hanar into their shuttle to be brought onto the Normandy runs through his head as less thrilling than he'd have imagined, but he can't find the voice to make a joke when he watches her bend down and heft up the limp hanar. One more of its tentacles stays behind as she quickly follows him up the slight incline towards the lowering shuttle.

Rym jumps in to set the Lieutenant down and begin laying down fire from her shotgun as the medic climbs in and drops the pistol to wrap a hand around Jane's arm to help haul the body in. Garrus slides the hanar off his arms and onto the floor of the shuttle as Sephone climbs up and on.

He turns and pats Reguix's shoulder in silent order to drop his barrier and fall back as, as the two of them step onto the shuttle with the older turian a step ahead of him, he hears Jane ordering Cortez to move before the hatch door is even shut. Klixen are all around their shuttle, with no end in sight, and it gives them no chance to still their fire, their weapons' sinks almost completely depleted. They're getting close, too close, and, just as the shuttle begins to lift, one manages to claw onto the lip of the hatch.

He growls and, as he turns to kick it off as it climbs, is stopped mid vocal when Rym beats him to it. Stomping from the other side of the compartment where she had been aiding in moving the wounded, she has momentum when she kicks the Klixen, sending it flying as it squeals.

Chuckling as Sephone drags the shuttle doors closed with a slam, he looks to the krogan girl and nods in 'good work'. If he knows anything about krogan, and especially young ones like her, it's that they take just as much pleasure in their kills being acknowledged and praised as they do the actual action. That is, if his time with Grunt was anything to go by.

By her heavy chuckle through the comm and grin on her face when she removes her helmet, he can tell he was right.

Jane comes back from the cockpit, pulling off her helmet as she looks to the conscious asari. "What's the status of the hanar? Are they even alive?"

D'nalas nods as she removes her less armored helmet, panting from the draining adrenaline. "Yes, ma'am, but their condition is dire. Do you have medical equipment aboard the Normandy?"

"Probably not the kind that would save them," Garrus says as he takes a hold of a beam on the roof to steady himself. Last thing they need is for him to step on one of the injured and cause more damage.

"Then we need to get to Illium. Immediately."

Jane snorts and crosses her arms. "We can't go faster than FTL, but we'll do our best."

The medic frowns in confusion and asks, as if stunned, "How in the universe can you be so callous? These people could die and you make jokes!" She jerks to her feet, hands balled into fists. "Are you a monster?!"

Garrus knows better than to step in more than the warning growl he gives as Jane steps closer to the woman, narrowing her eyes as her stance changes from relaxed to one of stern command of the very air in the shuttle. He's sure that, if most of them weren't still wearing their helmets, they would be choking on the tension radiating off her.

"Excuse me, Princess, but death is probably a blessing after what they went through." She jerks her head slightly at the two milky white forms. "What kind of fucked up decision led you people into dragging them out of the pods when even you needed a suit?"

"We didn't have a choice," Sephone says from her corner of the shuttle, arms crossed over her chest. "That was the order and we followed."

"You don't just 'follow orders'," D'nalas retorts over her shoulder. "You aren't a soldier."

"No, but I followed those fucked up orders because we had no choice. Ban together or get lost in the damn fog." She motions the two hanar. "We couldn't leave them to the Klixen, so we hoped for a shelter at the end of those beacons." She snorts derisively. "Boy, were we wrong."

"Be that as it may, we saved your sorry asses." His mate looks pointedly at the medic as she adds, "So show some damn respect or we can drop your asses back there to be swarmed by the Klixen." She turns from the aggravated woman, coming to stand beside Garrus and take hold of the strut for support. "We're heading to Illium, so you'll get your hospital. Until then, consider it a show of my charity that you can use our MedBay for your wounded and own wounds. But that means your Asari Republic is reimbursing us for the spent supplies. I'm not _that_ giving."

Sephone chuckles from her corner. Her voice is deeper than most asari, Garrus can now hear and analyze with a mind not preoccupied with staying alert to incoming enemies. Also, she already stands taller than D'nalas - Levestis not able to be compared due to her condition - by at least a head and even her armor is different, lacking the rounded breast plate to accommodate a larger chest. If anything, her suit almost looks male, whatever breasts she has almost not existent. He's sure that, outside her armor, she has a physique to match his assumptions of her suit in order for her to continuously heft around and use the grenade launcher on her back. It seems to be her only weapon, after all.

"I like you, Shepard," she simply says to the redhead at his side, earning a nod in something not quite a thanks and not quite a full acknowledgement. Jane's thoughts are elsewhere, it seems, and Garrus can only guess what is running around her head and behind those emerald eyes.


	41. Chapter 41

Garrus

The shuttle is silent but for the Medical Officer's whispers of vitals as she tries fruitlessly to tend to the Hanar laying at their feet. Her words aren't for the others, but to have some sort of control over the situation, some grasp on the rapidly declining signs of life from those she is charged with. Even without medical experience, Garrus doesn't see much hope for the two dignitaries and, if they did manage to survive, he isn't sure the result of the chlorine gas is something one would want to live with. He may not know what the effects to a species like the hanar are and will be, but he knows their state says they won't come out of this unmarred.

"Sidonis is waiting in the Cargo Bay with a crew ready to transport the injured, ma'am," Cortez says from the front as he pulls the shuttle is as quickly as safe for shuttle and its occupants. He brings up a very important, very unfortunate, fact for the given situation: the Normandy doesn't have a true medical doctor. Sidonis is a medic and, though Garrus has to admit he knows he's a good one from Omega, his knowledge only covers so much.

The odds against the hanar are steadily rising, bets for their survival are tipping in death's favor. Whatever political matters hang on their proverbial shoulders tetters dangerously close to the edge and it doesn't look like it will be backing onto more solid ground anytime soon. Cold to the loss, Garrus can only think that at least they don't have anything riding on the hanars' survival beyond wasting their time to divert their course to pull for a rescue.

The three years of the Reaper war - because he knows they have been fighting since Saren made contact on Eden Prime - have numbed him to the loss of life that comes when living the existence of a soldier. Death hangs on those who find themselves fighting a battle of any kind face the deaths of their enemies, their allies, the innocent, and themselves. It is how one reacts that means anything and, for him, he just can't find the energy or reason to mourn the loss of those he has no involvement with.

"Understood," Jane says as they feel the shift under their feet of the shuttle passing through the kinetic barrier protecting the Cargo Bay from the depressurization. The change is subtle, a slight shift in the air around them, but it signals their arrival and that it's safe to open the hatch. Swinging it open with a slam of it against its hinges, his mate jumps down the meter to the Bay floor and motions hurriedly to the crew ready and waiting to rush the injured up to the MedBay. "D'nalas, follow the crew. They'll take your patients up to our MedBay and our medic will assist you." The woman nods and practically falls out once the shuttle makes contact in her rush to get the hanar and the Lieutenant on the stretchers. With her situation as under control as can be in the Spectres' hands, Jane turns to the towering asari left getting off the shuttle at a calmer pace along with the two turians. "Sephone. You're free to store your armor and weapons in one of the lockers here in the armory. Garrus and I have to contact the Council to tell them what happened here."

"What? No grand tour?" The grenadier removes her helmet to reveal her smirk, a scar cutting across its left side, over both lips, and down her squared chin to curl at her neck.

His wife shrugs and looks to Arcanus. "Reguix? Care to show Sephone around as duties of an XO?"

"In other words, my duties will now involve every task the two of you deem either too insipid or outside or your expertise?"

"Pretty much," she remarks with a grin, patting him on the shoulder as he removes his helmet, and motioning Garrus to join her on the way to the lift. Garrus gives a last look over to the older man to see his slight nod of understanding for his task despite his jest before he then gives the asari woman a nod in parting. As he catches up to her side, she throws a glance over her shoulder before chuckling softly and whispering conspiratorially, "And here I thought all asari were big, round tits and pretty faces."

"How small minded and slightly speciesist of you," he responds with a hint of amusement in his subvocals, turning into a chuckle when she jabs him in the waist between two heavy black plates of his armor.

"Still." They step into the lift and Jane hits the command for the second deck, both knowing that they need to contact someone about this development whether they'd like to or not. "I never expected to meet or see an asari that helps to prove they aren't 'female' but monogendered. Sometimes it's hard to forget when they look so feminine all the time." She leans on the wall and lays her head back against the wall. "Good to see they aren't all big tits and bubble butts. Never could understand how they managed to maintain a military."

He knows his shrug goes unnoticed, but he does it anyways as he shifts to lean against the wall with her. The support railing along said wall doesn't do much in the way of giving him something to cock his hip against - not like it does for his wife at her shorter height - but the wall supporting his curved back is enough to give him a moment of relaxation. "She's definitely not military."

"Merc?"

He shakes his head and says, "More like a freelancer. The merc companies have begun to withdraw their men and rebuild their organizations." Sighing with a frustrated growl lacing the sound, he crosses his arms in thought. "It won't be long before they're back to their old ways."

"And here we are not giving two shits," she offers with a smirk and he takes a moment to read her before he understands. Their goal still stands, to get out of the grasps of the Council and anyone else wanting to assume command over them when they have truly deserved peace.

"Yeah. Let someone else clean up the mess," he agrees with a flaring of his mandible to match her own smirk.

Feeling the elevator slowing to a stop, they both stand up in unison and step closer to the door. Jane sighs in preparation as he tilts his head and adjusts the yoke of his armor, both getting ready for the short walk to the Comm Room and tiring conversation with the Council. They know that, once they present their report of the situation - of the claimed Geth involvement - that they will be more talked _at_ than to as the Councilors fluster.

As the doors to the lift slide open, they are greeted by one of the crew holding a datapad and clearly waiting. Garrus has seen said crewman before and tries to remember the name - Kurst, he believes - as they step aside with a nod in greeting, but, instead of stepping onto the open lift and riding it to his needed deck, he moves to keep in step with them.

"Vakarian, sir?" He begins and Garrus stops, Jane a step ahead before she does the same out of curiosity. Kurst hands over the datapad and explains before the Spectre has need to question the reason. "Engineers Donnelly and Daniels have requested a check with you on the numbers of energy draw. They said they didn't want to take too much out of the guns. Said something about 'calibrations'?"

The man looks utterly confused at the apparent inside joke as Jane tries to hide her chuckle and Garrus sighs. He wasn't even the one that started calling everything he did 'calibrations', she was. From the practical start of their relationship, when he was still a C-Sec cop strangled by red tape and she nothing more than a N-trainee, she explained anything he was able to do with tech that she didn't understand nor care to 'calibrations'. When she started saying it around others in the crew, it just spread like the fires of Palaven's dry season and has now become a running joke among those closest to them.

Moving to get his revenge - petty as it was - he turns to his wife and flicks a mandible with a smug rumble. "You go on ahead and contact the Council. I'll just be a minute."

Her amusement drops into a thin lipped pout as she narrows her eyes. "Right. Feed me to the dogs." He chuckles as she looks to the Comm Specialist in silent command to follow before she spins and heads out of the CIC and into the abandoned security checkpoint, Traynor at her heels.

Looking from the engineering crewman to the datapad, he hums in thought. "How much more draw do they need?"

"At least an increase of eight percent, sir."

"Eight?" He raises a brow and glances up at the man, seeing the slight nerves in him.

He wonders just want sort of horror stories the crew tells of the turian Spectre on their ship and knows that his own temper must be well known to all on the Normandy by now. He knows he should be worried that there are those in the crew not comfortable with that knowledge, always balancing between angering and calming him, but he can't seem to find it in himself to care. Had they been through the hell he and his have been through, been robbed of the choice to return to battle or take their peace, they would understand his frustration and aggravation.

Still, asking for more power is not something that will push him over the edge. Not when they aren't currently in a war that had forced them into pulling from their own reserves in order to boost their defensive _and_ offensive measures while not pulling from one or the other. They will always have need for an active gun, but he knows that the engineers aren't asking for power because they have already tapped out their own stores, but merely to stretch out their fuel usage. Pulling power from the guns to fly the ship and all that entails will help to waste less fuel - of which they are already having for a portion of out of the funds for other ship necessities.

Sighing, he types into the datapad, rewriting the formulas he had placed into the coding to account for what he deemed the guns would need now that the immediate threat of war was past. He takes the time to make sure each line of coding is properly altered before running a quick error processor to check his work and, when it comes back without errors, he hands the pad back. "I've given them six. Tell them they will have to make do with that. Any more and we're crippling our weapons systems." Frowning, he adds with a passing wonder of where Rym is in her work, "Without EDI to help switch between my simulations in the moment of battle, I can't, in good conscience, alter the firing algorithms more than I already have."

Kurst looks over the datapad, nodding as he reads the code. "Of course, sir. You've helped us down in Engineering greatly just with this. Thank you. I'll let Donnelly and Daniels know."

He salutes, but Garrus waves it off. "We aren't Alliance, so there's no need for formalities." He chuckles slightly at the blinked confusion in the man, youth adding to his timidness to create a quite entertaining situation. It's as if Garrus were standing before a child trying to impress his elders with his play at the good soldier, lost when someone goes against regulation or offers the gesture to themselves. "As you were," he says, figuring he better let the man go before he completely blows the top of his expectations for how this meeting would have gone.

Knowing he's wasted enough time for his wife to find herself knee deep in politics and Council screeching and in need of rescue - or at least someone else to share in her pain - he heads towards the War Room that is mostly unused now that the Reapers have been rendered codeless. Traynor stands within the large room, tapping at a console to maintain connection with the Ascension while also giving the Council meeting the privacy of confidentiality. She looks up and smiles in greeting as he passes and heads up the stairs into the Comm Room.

" _Geth?!"_ Councilor Osoba's near shriek greets him as he steps into the room and beside his mate. _"But they were destroyed."_

Councilor Linron shakes her head as she looks over to the human Councilor. " _Not destroyed. The Reaper_ _ **code**_ _was destroyed."_

 _"_ _Meaning the Geth were left with their original programing given to them by the Quarians,_ " Councilor Maxima explains glancing to Garrus now standing within the sensors of the QEC. " _Spectre Vakarian. Is it true? Did the survivors from the_ _ **Helia's Glory**_ _claim that they were attacked by Geth?"_

"Isn't that what I just said-"

"Yes," he cuts off his wife, thinking that it'd be easier to end this call soon if they avoid a verbal argument between themselves and the Council. "They report a Geth vessel did not respond to their hails before it attacked. They were forced to eject their escape pods towards the nearest planet."

" _One that was toxic,_ " Linron adds, as if it was a _choice_ that the survivors found themselves on a chlorine engulfed hot zone. " _You were to_ _ **rescue**_ _the survivors, not come back with only_ _ **two**_ _members of the Illuminated Primacy who are not likely to recover from their injuries!"_

"Be glad we went at all!" Jane jabs a finger at the air between herself and the projected Councilors. "We went when you assholes were still sitting around with your thumbs up your collective asses! We were the only ones in the area and we did whatever we could." Pulling back, she crosses her arms. "We could have always waited for the ships you dispatched, but then there wouldn't even be those we managed to save."

" _Shepard is right,"_ Councilor Irissa agrees as she lays her hands crossed against her lower back, chin lifting to look down at the two Spectres. " _That fact of the matter is that the claims of Geth involvement must be looked into."_

Understanding what that means for them - because it _always_ involves them - Garrus shakes his head and says, "Get someone else to look into it. We aren't the only Spectres."

" _Yes, but you_ _ **are**_ _the only ones with such a report with the Geth."_ Octavia crosses her arms and juts her chin towards his mate. " _Shepard, here, managed to unite the Geth and quarians. There aren't any other Spectres would can boast an accomplishment."_

"Then someone else can learn," he responds with a slight growl at her to think twice about pushing the issue. He will not stand by while the Council piles _another_ mission on their backs.

" _And while we wait for another Spectre, the Geth will keep attacking diplomatic ships and could move towards colonies, planets, trying to rebuild after the war."_ Linron gains the same posture as Garrus' former lover, arms crossed defiantly. " _It's your duty to see to any matter we deem necessary."_

 _"_ _Wait, wait,"_ Osoba holds up his hands before looking to his fellow Spectres. " _What if the Geth are not alone in this?"_

 _"_ _What are you thinking?"_ Maxima looks over to him, brow lifted as she drops her arms and rumbles more in demand than question.

Councilor Linron, however, seems to understand where the man is going as she nods and holds her chin in thought, elbow held in her opposite palm. " _Yes, I, too, wonder that. What if the quarians are involved?"_ When the others turn to look at her, it gives Garrus the chance to see his wife shake her head in exasperation, hand moving to rub her forehead in attempt to soothe her headache. " _The Geth have only quarian programming now. What if they took advantage of that? Turned the Geth into nothing more than a synthetic military?"_

_"_ _You think this may be the quarians moving for more power?"_

Before Octavia and Linron can get deeper into said line of thinking, Jane holds up her hands to stop them. "Hold the fuck up. The Geth aren't primitive synthetics now. They are just as they were before the Reaper upgrades, sentient and free. The only difference between then and now is how they see themselves, how they communicate."

Garrus nods in agreement before looking to the Councilors. "Where the Reaper upgrades allowed them to see each platform as an individual, they must now rely on multiple programs to function as a single unit. That doesn't mean they can be controlled."

" _Then why are they attacking?"_

"We don't know, Councilor," Jane looks to Osoba, addressing his question. "But it could be a disagreement in programming."

" _'_ _Disagreement'? "_ Linron scoffs in dismissive disbelief. " _Open your eyes, Shepard. This is Saren and the Geth attack all over again. How many more Alliance ships will you sacrifice this time when they attack?"_

He watches as his wife's jaw stiffens, teeth clenched beneath her cheeks, and closes her eyes slowly. Fists at her sides clench in agitation as she takes a deep, calming breath, and Garrus growls as he answers. "Sovereign was a Reaper and entirely responsible and you _know_ it. You can't pick and choose which information you want to use in your argument."

"And if given the choice between your sorry asses or ships, I won't even have to think about which to choose."

Irissa nods, whether in agreement or understanding or something entirely different, Garrus doesn't know. " _Be that as it may, the quarians are the best lead into what has happened with the Geth. We want you to look into the matter starting with contacting the quarian Admiralty Board."_

"No." Jane raises her chin in defiance, crossing her arms and cocking her hip.

" _This is not up for discussion, Shepard."_

 _"_ _Remember who supplies that ship of yours with funds to maintain itself,"_ Octavia adds and Garrus can't help the snort of disbelief.

"Please. We are barely staying in the sky as it is and that's not to mention the fact that we can barely keep our crew fed or our ground team supplied with ammunition to weapons _they_ have to buy themselves, with their own credits."

" _If that's the case, then we can provide the Normandy with a more substantial supply of credits,"_ the asari Councilor provides, reaching to her terminal to tap in commands. Osoba doesn't hesitate to follow suit and, reluctantly, Octavia, then Councilor Linron, joins in.

" _This means you have no choice,"_ the Salarian woman says as she stabs her finger done on the terminal before her. " _Head to Rannoch immediately or arrange a meeting with the Admiralty Board-"_

Jane reaches forward and jabs the cut communications command, putting all the force of her irritation in the gesture to cut off the Councilor mid-demand. "Yeah, yeah. Fuck you too."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Note from SquigglySquid:  Sorry for the long wait.  I had a horrible allergic reaction to the contrast solution radiologists use during CT scans and it's been over two weeks and I'm still feeling its affects.  Still, I'm happy to see that readers have stuck around and thank you.  :)


	42. Chapter 42

Jane

Hanging up on the Council never ceased to bore her. It was cathartic in its own way, no matter how juvenile. If the soft rumble of amusement behind her was anything to go by, even her husband found it entertaining.

"Traynor?" Jane raises her voice enough to be heard out in the War Room. The woman steps into the Comm Room with a curious look on her face and Jane motions the communications console. "Can you get us a connection to Tali in the Flotilla, or Rannoch? Wherever the hell she actually is."

Samantha nods and tosses a thumb over her shoulder. "I have connection to the communications relay on the terminal out here. I'll let you know when I manage to get through."

"How long? Should we wait?"

She nods and smiles. "Trust me, as soon as I drop your names, they'll be practically running to find her." Chuckling, she adds with a smirk of playfulness, "There aren't many that want to make you both wait."

Jane snorts in critical disbelief. "Don't that. Hell, drop our names and they're bound to make us wait on hold."

"Don't worry, ma'am. I'll just be a moment."

With that, the Comm Specialist steps out and returns the two into a semblance of privacy that Jane takes to turn to her mate and sigh. "Think she'll be pissed that we haven't had contact but through a single message of 'Guess what? We're alive!'?"

He hums in thought and nods, all the while wearing an amused smirk. "She might be a bit annoyed." Chuckling, he steps closer to her and cocks his hip. "Especially since this call won't exactly be the kind to trade pleasantries and ask how her house's construction is coming along."

"Good thing a shotgun can't shoot through intergalactic communication or we'd both have to worry," she responds with a matching chuckle before changing the subject to the matter at hand. "Still, the Geth? Think the _Glory's_ crew can be believed?"

"Wouldn't hurt to be cautious and, since we are apparently the only Spectres in the galaxy, it looks like we'll be vacationing on Rannoch."

She snorts and rolls her eyes. "Yeah… 'vacation'. I don't think I know the word."

He hums before closing the slight distance between them, lowering his voice as he nearly purrs in her ear, "Then I guess I'll have to enlighten you to its… benefits."

Smirking, she chuckles huskily and slides her finger up his chestplate, through the grime and questionable substances caked onto it. _We are both definitely in need of a bout of armor cleaning…_ _ **after**_ _a shower._

"I look forward-"

A throat clears to catch their attention, Traynor looking quite guilty for interrupting when they look back to her. "I have Tali on the line?" she says to remind them of the task at hand.

"Right, professionalism… What is that again?" Despite her words, Jane turns to the communications terminal and accesses the commands to accept the transfer of the comm from Traynor's terminal to the QEC. Giving a nod of thanks to the other woman, she hits the 'activate link' and waits for the blue image of their quarian friend to materialize.

"Tali," she starts with a huge, innocent grin and arms spread, but she doesn't get far before she's cut off by a less than amused Tali'Zorah.

"Don't 'Tali' me, you bosh'tet," the younger woman says with a huff as she knots her arms before her and cocks her hip in wordless reprimand, as if they were children caught with dirt behind their ears. "You get out of the hospital and you don't even call! _And_ you are still _working_!"

"Hey, now," Jane tries to protest, truly feeling like children with their 'but, but's. "This isn't exactly our choice."

"Oh, hush, you." The quarian jerks her head to Garrus, eyes narrowing even more in a way that Jane hadn't even thought possible. "And _you_ -"

"Wanted to call, but you know how Jane can get when given a mission."

 _Dirty little_ … Jane thinks as she narrows her eyes at her smirking husband, the only one able to hear his amused rumbling in jest. _Traitor!_

"Keelah, do I," Tali practically sighs, rolling her head in exasperation.

"Now wait a damn minute-"

"Still! You should have called! … I've missed you guys and, when we all thought you were dead…"

Tali's anger fades in an instant as her head droops, eyes turning to the floor as she drops her arms. Jane frowns in guilt over the hell she's sure their friends could have been going through first hearing that they were dead before hearing, not from their own lips, but Liara, that they were really alive. That's not even mentioning the fact that they are back to in the fight despite everyone else seemingly moving forward. It feels like she and Garrus' feet are stuck deep in mud while everyone else in the galaxy is on solid ground and she hates the feeling of being left out of what they rightfully earned and fought for.

"Tali," Jane says as Garrus rumbles in apology, eyes on their friend. "We didn't mean to leave you or any of the others out of the loop. It's just that, with the kids and being forced back into work, it feels like we're two steps behind everyone else. You are _rebuilding your home_ and we are still stuck on the Normandy fighting for diplomacy and the damn Council."

She nods and finally looks up from the floor. "I still don't forgive you…" she says in a way that Jane can practically envision a pouted lip under the woman's mask.

Chuckling, the redhead nods. "Good enough."

Eyes crinkling in a way that shows a smile hiding beneath the mask, Tali motions forward with a hand, as if addressing what lays beyond the QEC sensors. "How is my ship?"

" _Your_ ship?" Garrus snorts and shakes his head. "If this ship goes to anyone, it's me. I'm next in line for command."

He gets a wave off with what sounds like a pressurized hiss. "Please, you'd be on whatever beach Shepard's on soaking up the sun and flailing in the waves."

"That's the best way to enjoy the water," he responds with a flick of his mandible.

Tali rolls her head in exasperation before turning to Jane. "How are they? The babies."

"Good. Growing fast and eating us out of house and home."

"Hence why we don't currently have one," her mate adds.

"You better be planning on bringing them to Rannoch for their first birthday. No way Wrex gets to have them on Tuchanka for it before me."

" 'First'?" Her eyes widen as she looks at her husband, who merely looks confused. Birthdays are obviously not something celebrated as widely as apparently _two_ other species, humans and quarians. "Holy shit. Has it really been that long?"

"Well, I don't know their exact birth date, but I'm sure you do-"

"May thirteenth, Alliance standard," she whispers, hand gripping her mate's wrist as her head snaps up to him. "Holy fuck! They're almost one!"

He raises a brow and gently rearranges their hands so he can hold hers. "I understand that, but is there some importance for you? Like the one time the Normandy celebrated yours in '83?"

They hear a slight chuckle from over the comm and look to see Tali shaking her head. "Keelah, what would you do without me to remind you of these things?"

"Birthday celebrations aren't really as important for turians. The only milestone is our fifteenth, when we go into Basic."

"Boy," Jane says, looking at him. "Is your species boring."

"What about you, Shepard?"

That is where she realizes Garrus' confusion, she never explained to him the importance in human culture - or, at least, some - for celebrating the passing year of someone's life. She never explained because she didn't expect to have any and she didn't expect to have any because she's _never_ had any before that one moment on the SR1.

She is damn sure she isn't going to rob her children of those little joys in life. She is going to make damn sure she gets right what her own mother failed at.

"You're right, Tali," she finally says, looking to her husband before the quarian's image. "Whether they will remember this or not, we should make this the start of a tradition." Back to Garrus, she smiles and nods once. "It's a silly thing that doesn't really have any significance besides giving our children a happy memory."

Purring, he smiles and nods. "Then we'll do it. With our own twists."

"Oh ancestors, that sounds like you're going to start giving them weapons as gifts." Shaking her head, Tali palms the front of her helmet. "Why did I even bring it up?"

"Enough of us." Jane chuckles. "Tell us how the Rannoch 'home building' is coming along. How is Kal?"

"Good," she says with a hidden smile, clasping her hands in excitement. "And he really is enjoying being involved in construction. I've always told him he'd be good with his hands and he really is."

Jane snorts and brings up a hand to cover her grin as Garrus rumbles a soft chuckle. "I bet he is," the not-so-professional Commander says.

"What?" White eyes blink in confusion as Tali looks between the two seeming idiots practically giggling. "What is it?"

"I'm sure Mordin must have sent you some pamphlets on-"

"Tali," Garrus cuts off, his expression turning serious. "We called for more than just catching up."

"Of course you did," she says before sighing and shaking her head, holding up a hand as she asks no one in particular, "Why am I not surprised?"

"If we could, we wouldn't drag you into this, but you're the only one we can trust." Looking to her for permission to tell her, he rumbles in understanding when Jane gives him the okay nod. "We need information in the Geth. Their condition, actions, interactions with your people-"

A hand halts him as Tali stands straight. "I will be arriving on the Destiny Ascension to negotiate the return of our ships that aided in refugee transportation. Meet me there and I'll tell you everything I know."

Jane frowns in confusion, reading something more in the young woman's tone and stance. "What's going on Tali?"

"I'm sorry, but I can't speak over this unsecured communication. I have my people to think about. Any talks of Geth activity could be taken the wrong way and cause panic." She wrings her hands. "I hope you can understand."

It's not the direction she'd have wanted for this conversation, but they don't really have the option to refuse or push the issue. Tali has never been one to budge when her people were involved and it is a quality both inspiring and infuriating for Jane. She remembers all too well the refusal and later resistance from Tali and her team on Freedoms Progress when they tried to ban together. Cerberus or not, Tali's trust wavered in a way that got her own people killed and Jane was not going to be the one to step up and take the undeserved blame for it. Yet, Tali's unwavering conviction was her strength and keep her will solid during the war when many would have broken and fallen.

Disappointed and frustrated, but understanding enough to hide it from the eyes of their friend, Jane nods. "Yeah. We get you. Not the answer we wanted, I'll admit, but we can make it to the Ascension and speak in person."

"Thank you, Shepard," Tali says before looking to Garrus. "I know this isn't really the best reason to talk, but I'm happy to hear from you guys again."

"As are we," he admits with a rumble and smile.

She smiles and nods, looking away as if seeing something. A moment later, a small form runs into the sensors and bounces at Tali's feet. It's hard to tell from the back, but a glance over the form that is so like her good friend and Jane soon realizes they are looking at a small quarian child in a looser fitting suit, most likely one of the 'bubble suits' Tali had once told them about.

Chuckling, Jane smirks and crosses her arms. "My, my. Tali, you've certainly been busy."

"Oh, yeah… Wait. No! No," Tali corrects quickly with a shake of her head, gently spinning the young child and gently nudging their back in silent 'run along'. "No," she repeats with a chuckle. "Some of our children are without their parents. They are either still aboard ships across the galaxy or…"

"And you help watch them," Garrus says, providing a change of mind so as not to dwell.

Tali nods, either in thanks or agreement, Jane doesn't quite know. "In a way. We all tend to them, watching them, providing food, teaching and caring for them. All of us share the tasks as we would on the Flotilla." She smiles. "We may no longer need to live on ships, but there are many things that will always remain a part of us."

Jane smiles as her husband rumbles a wordless sound of understanding and praise. "It looks like your wards are wanting you to get off the comms and play," he says with a smile. "We should let you go."

"Yeah," Jane agrees. "We still have to get this shit from our fight off us before James' babysitting shift is over."

"Ugh. Have fun," Tali deadpans and the two chuckle as they nod in understanding and silent goodbyes.

When the comm closes, Jane sighs and leans on the console, crossing her arms. "What do you think is so dangerous that Tali can't speak of it over the comms?"

"Something that could threaten their peace should it fall into the wrong hands," he answers, humming in thought as he leans his hands onto the railing beside her, looking off and into the wall of the QEC projection pad. "If the Reaper coding within synthetics was destroyed, then that would return the Geth to their previous state. However, that doesn't mean they are automatically hostile. After all, Legion said the Geth were willing to negotiate peace with the quarians before they were attacked and forced to accept Reaper programming in order to save themselves."

"It's never easy with the quarians and Geth, is it?"

"It doesn't seem so," he says as he leans up, looking to her. "Good to know the galaxy hasn't changed."

She snorts and motions the door, needing to get the Harvester covered armor off and sweat washed down the shower drain. "Just a new layer of paint and no one will ever know the Reapers were here. Not sure that's a good thing."

"Maybe not, but soon it won't be our problem anymore. We're still retiring, remember?"

"How could I with you practically shopping for swimming trunks and floaties already?" Butting her hips to his with a clanking of armors, she chuckles and nods to Traynor to dismiss her from her duties in the War Room as they pass. "We just need to find a way to steal away on the Normandy to some long lost tropical island planet."

"And damn the crew aboard," he adds with his own chuckle. "They're coming with us."

"Let's be sure to stock the Lounge in plenty of drinks. Can't enjoy a beach without at least _one_ drink in our bellies and the second in our hands. And I'm finding us some of those tiny paper umbrellas so I can put one in every drink."

He snorts. "We're Spectres. We can get ourselves _two_ umbrellas."


	43. Chapter 43

Garrus

Illium didn't even show signs of the war. At least, none outside of the influx of people of all species combing through the markets for what few other places in this war torn galaxy could provide. Even they are here for that same reason and, with the Council's increased funds - which could be either very good or very bad for the Normandy in the long run - their target was, for once, something not involving their weapons. Well, at least, Garrus hoped.

He's sure the image of two heavily armored and armed Spectres - with enough shared scars that anyone can read the progression of war all over their faces and bodies - is not something that these people would have expected, but one they will have to get used to and make way for. If they don't? Well, a none too polite shove from his mate or his sheer, imposing size coming their way will get them moving.

They have somewhere to be before they are needed back on the Normandy and they won't be deterred from getting their much needed upgrade on the ship's food stores. He, and surely everyone included, is so very tired of MREs and food rations. What he wouldn't give for just the upgrade to space worthy, dehydrated foodstuffs. He doesn't even need real, cooked meals to be happy to finally not have to eat military grade, questionable rations.

As if hearing his very thoughts, Jane grins up to him and bumps her shoulder to his side. "I can _not_ wait until we can have some food where I can _actually_ tell what it is instead of having to trust the package."

He chuckles and nods, rumbling in agreement. "Maybe we can even find better food for the twins."

Snorting, she motions to a surplus food supply, the perfect place to buy a Cargo Bay full of crates containing food supplies for a better price than they'd find in the Traverse. "Hell, they will eat like kings and queens. We all will."

"Don't know if I'd go _that_ far," he responds with a smirk as they walk from the throng of the moving crowd and to the counter of the supply shop. Not many would browse the wares of a place that offers so much as most here aren't looking to feed a ship, so they receive the volus merchant's full attention as Garrus knocks a gloved knuckle on the smooth surface.

"Yes? - _tssk_ \- How can I help you?" The man in a red suit - _fancy for a merchant of a simple surplus store_ \- waddles to stand before them and lay his hands on the counter in an attempt at a welcoming gesture. Honestly? Garrus much more prefers those that would rather get right to the point instead of offer empty pleasantries. _That's why I actually find myself preferring to buy from the markets on Omega… and I can't even believe I'm admitting that._

"We need…" Jane looks up to him and asks more than says, "Eight crates of food supplies?"

Garrus nods and looks to the merchant to add, "A forty-sixty of dextro and levo. Dextro needs to be turian cuisine."

"Right. No point in making a bunch of meat eaters eat their veggies," his wife adds with a chuckle and leans an elbow on the counter. "Now is the time where you tell us if we can make a deal or fuck off and find someone else."

"Dextro and levo. - _tssk-_ Eight crates." The volus talks more to himself as he takes a datapad from behind the kiosk and taps commands. "Why yes. - _tssk-_ We have just enough - _tssk-_ but it will cost you."

"Just tell us the price already."

"Four thousand and five hundred- _tssk_ \- a crate."

Garrus watches a flicker of astonishment cross through her eyes as he crosses his arms. "Thirty thousand for the lot."

"You must think me charitable, - _tssk_ \- Palaven-clan." He shakes his head and lays his datapad on the counter, screen off. "Thirty - _tssk_ \- five."

He gives a glance to his wife to let him take this as he steps closer, lifting his chin to project his confidence in getting his way. "Thirty one."

If anything, the merchant only shakes his head with more force, his suit hissing as if he were about to burst like those tea kettles he once saw Miranda using. "- _tssk_ \- I cannot go lower than - _tssk_ \- thirty four."

Knowing he's getting to the man, Garrus smirks inwardly and drops his hands, laying them on the counter as he leans closer. "Thirty two or we walk. I'm sure there are plenty of shops willing to promote their business with the claims of serving the saviors of the galaxy."

"Ever heard of the Normandy?" Jane adds with a smirk, crossing her arms with a cocked hip.

The volus' head swivels between husband and wife, trying to debate whether or not to take the bluff at face value or call it. Just to add to the pressure, Garrus leans up and turns to his mate and nods in 'let's move on'. "Wait!" _As humans would say, 'hook, line, and sinker', whatever that means_. "I suppose - _tssk_ \- I can make an exception for the crew of the Normandy. - _tssk-_ But I cannot go lower than thirty two."

Garrus makes a show of humming in thought before nodding once in agreement. "Thirty two it is. How soon can you deliver the crates?"

"Yeah. Kinda in a hurry," his mate says as she makes her own show of checking her Omni-Tool. "We are already holding off a very important mission to ensure our crew has supplies. _Council_ matters to attend to."

The man's gloved fingers tap at the polished counter in irritation before his suit hisses and he responds, "I can manage an hour. - _tssk_ \- You have really put a strain on my - _tssk_ \- business."

"And the galaxy thanks you," Garrus says as he lays a credit chit on the counter and watches the merchant scan it, deducting the appropriate amount before nearly tossing it back. He hides his chuckle at the fact that they got so deep under the volus' suit, but can't help the adding to it now that their supplies are bought. "What was your name again? I want to make sure we know who to come to for all our needs."

"Daen Konst," the man grumbles with a wave of his hand in dismissal. "Now - _tsski_ \- will you go? I have - _tssk_ \- other customers."

Despite Jane's obvious glance around to see that, no, there are, in fact, no other customers, Garrus motions her to lead the way. Their work getting food supplies is done and, seeing as how Arcanus deals with nearly everything else despite his initial claim of taking a break from leading of any sort, they see no other need for them to traverse the markets when Harrot requisitions whatever they need through his network of associates all across the galaxy. Never before had Garrus thought they would be dealing with the company they have, but now it just seems more comfortable than dealing within the more pristine lines of society.

"What do you say we find some things for the babes before heading back?"

Looking down to her, he shrugs. "I have no idea where to even go for that sort of thing. I wouldn't think that, with its majorily asari population, Illium would carry turian baby clothes for anything less than an arm and a leg. I might be able to set up something with my dad to try and find something and send it to a port we can get to."

Her mouth pushes to one side as she nods. "Damn. You're probably right. We'd probably be paying out the ass for something here. We should see if Liara can get a connection to Palaven set up."

"If she can even pull herself away from Thessia's rebuilding efforts enough to play the part she wanted so bad," he remarks with a slight growl in irritation.

No matter what they try, they can't seem to find information on many of their allies and friends through the Shadow Broker Network thanks to Liara apparently taking a break and channeling everything through Glyph. He assumes she sees items deemed 'important' since the entire universe hasn't spontaneously collapsed without the constant flow of information, but that only brings up the question of why the asari woman seems to have assumed that sending them info on their former crew isn't necessary.

Important to their immediate mission or not, they'd still like to know where everyone is and what has happened to them now that the universe survived the war.

"Hey," his wife says as she taps a knuckle on his chest plate to get his attention. When she does, she jerks her chin forward in direction to follow her eyes. "Isn't that Jondum Bau?"

Humming, Garrus can better see over the crowd than his shorter wife and looks at the armored salarian, examining him. From this distance, even without his visor that was long ago lost on Earth, he can see the same black and gold armor the Spectre wore when they first met. Still, it's not until the man turns enough to catch the Spectre insignia on his shoulder that Garrus considers it a very likely possibility. The only thing throwing him off is the scarring from one horn and over the man's brow.

"Seems like it could-" He trills when she grabs his wrist and yanks him with her as she shoulders through the crowd.

"Won't hurt to see." She smirks playfully at him and cups a hand to her mouth as she shouts, "Bau!"

Large eyes blink as the salarian turns, looking around at whoever called. He obviously sees Garrus first as he nods in greeting and comes towards them. "Spectre Vakarian. Greetings." As they draw closer, his eyes narrow just slightly in amusement as they close the gap. "Ah. Spectre Shepard. Nice to meet you too."

"What brings you here to Illium? I thought Spectres don't have authority here," she asks, pausing a moment to consider that. "Well, ignoring that we're here too."

Bau nods in understanding before motioning in question to follow him as he leads them away from the crowds and towards a set of benches where visitors or passersby can look out over the sprawling towers in the distance. He sits on one and they take another that is set to the side, giving them a semblance of facing each other.

"I am actually following a lead on Kasumi Goto," he explains and Garrus chuckles.

"Still trying to catch her?"

Smiling a bit, the man nods. "Just because we all ended a war doesn't mean our job is done."

"Don't we know it." Jane snorts and leans back on the bench, stretching out and crossing her legs. "What makes you think she's here?"

"I tracked a lead on her here."

Meaning, she wanted to be followed her. The two who served with her know it and, oddly enough, it seems that Bau does too. Garrus supposes that maybe the man's travels here might just be him trying to occupy himself with a mission so the Council doesn't pile more on his shoulders, but maybe he is just thinking that because it would be what he'd do. He also suspects that Bau enjoys the challenge Garrus knows Kasumi is providing in her amusing chase.

"So, Bau," Jane's voice pulls the large eyes away from the horizon and back to their place on the opposite bench. "No one seems to want to tell us, but do you know the situation on the Citadel?"

"Don't understand why you wouldn't be told," he responds and brings a hand to his chin, eyes squinting in contemplation. "But I see no reason not to be the one to tell you." Looking up to them, he plainly states, "The Citadel has been quarantined."

"What? Why? The Reapers are dead. Whatever husks were on the station are dead."

Bau shakes his head and drops his hands to open his Tool. "Not the concern. Communications with Citadel have not been reestablished and preliminary surveys show massive loss of primary systems."

Garrus grunts in surprise and shock as his mate's eyes widen and mouth opens slightly. "What? You mean… The people aboard could be dead?"

"Possible."

"Fuck!" She jerks to her feet and glares out over the tall spires of businesses and apartment complexes.

Jondum looks to Garrus for explanation to her outburst and he exhales heavily. "We had more than a few friends on the station."

"It could be possible that some districts of the Wards may have survived." Bau's large eyes looks to Jane's back. "As I heard, you were on the station when the central structure was destroyed."

She nods and runs a hand over her tightly pulled back hair. "A… friend got me out and to Earth. As far as I knew, the Citadel was just damaged and had enemy contact, but I thought that'd have taken care of itself when the Reapers kicked the bucket."

"Could be that there are survivors among stable areas of Citadel. There are currently talks of sending in small teams to assess the damage in order for larger repair crews to be aware of issues. I assume that would also lead to evacuations once it is confirmed that the Reaper forces will no longer be a problem."

"One can only hope," she says as she returns to their bench, sitting right beside Garrus in a way that he wraps an arm around her shoulder in silent reassurance. Just because the news sounds bad doesn't mean that those they knew were still trapped on the Citadel are dead. "Is that all you've heard?"

Nodding, Bau responds, "Yes. The Council is very concerned about the public panicking and has even withheld information from fellow Spectres. It is all very concerning, but there is nothing that can be done. With humanity preparing for a war with the Hegemony while the Citadel still remains in the Sol system, it will be even more difficult to proceed with any reclamation and rebuilding."

"Yeah," his wife huffs as her back leans on his arm. "I don't the Alliance will get their heads out of their asses any time soon."

"Well, you'd be a better judge than myself." Bau stands and gives them a curt nod. "Apologies, but I must get back to my tracking."

Garrus nods as Jane leans her head back against his arm. "Good luck," she says with a slight amusement that Garrus recognizes and is sure Bau doesn't. After all, it's taken quite some time for even him to learn to read his mate's sense of humor at times.

He watches the salarian Spectre leave them and disappear once again in the crowds before turning to look at his wife. As if the war didn't weigh heavily enough on her during their fight, now it just grows heavier at the thought that, no matter what they've done or accomplished, it is still taking its toll and people's lives. If for her sake, he hopes that those they know are in those few supposed areas of remaining systems.

If only they could get Liara to answer their damn hail, they could get some real answers.

"Babies keeping you up at night?" a voice they know all too well says from the empty air beside Jane. "And here I thought you had a ship full of babysitters."

Chuckling softly, Jane lifts her head and looks to the empty place beside her. "Hello, Kasumi. Shouldn't you be _hiding_ from Bau?"

"I am. He'd never think of finding me where he just was."

Garrus is the one to chuckle now as he tilts his head to look out on the horizon. "Did you really have a job out here?"

"Of course. But I like to have a little fun every once and awhile."

"And you find that by playing cat and mouse with a Spectre," his wife says with a snort. "I wonder who the mouse in this relationship really is."

The weight on the bench shifts in what Garrus thinks might be a quick shrug. "That's the fun of it."

"I suppose you hear the whole conversation?"

"Pretty much… I'm sorry to hear about the Citadel."

"Did you know?" he asks with a hum of thought, wondering distantly if they are the only ones being ignored by Liara or if it's all of them.

"No. I'm just hearing of it, though I suspected something was going on with there being a steel trap around anything pertaining to the Citadel."

"Why the hell hasn't Liara told us?" The redhead scowls. "You'd think we'd deserve to know. We have friends there, you know?"

"Maybe she's just busy? She _is_ trying to rebuild her Network and Thessia."

"And we're still having to do the Council's damn dirty work. That's no excuse. We helped her get into her position, the least she could do is help us stay connected to everyone."

"I thought she gave you their contacts."

"Not all of them, only those in the typical places. Tali and Ilden, Wrex and Grunt, and Ash, Kaidan, and James we met on Earth already. Hell, Vega and Arcanus are the only ones still serving with us. Everyone else?" Jane shrugs. "We have no clue."

"Come on, you know I'm sitting right here."

"We wouldn't have known if you were even _alive_ if not for your nosiness," Garrus retorts with a rumble of amusement, looking back to the empty seat.

"I don't know what to say," Kasumi says before pausing. "Maybe she just needs time to readjust? We _did_ just survive the Reapers, after all."

"I'd like to be up to date before she hits her matron stage, you know." Jane raises a brow. "I'd be bones by then."

"Such a couple a grouches." A soft laugh comes from beside them as Goto shifts on the set, weight leaning against the back of the bench. "I sure hope your kids don't get that from you."

"Please, people are flocking to spend time with us," Garrus says, only to hear her unconvinced hum.

"You know, they're about to be one, so you should definitely start to think about what they'll catch onto. Wouldn't want to have an Archangel Jr, would we? I don't think Omega could take it."

Nudging him, his wife adds, "The station would probably implode from just the thought."

"How do you even know their age?" Garrus lifts a brow as he glances around Jane. "Tali, too."

"Um… Liara told us?"

At that, Jane sits up. "Whoa. Let me get this straight. She managed to send out the twins' birthday, but can't even pass along vital information?"

"Well, to be exact, it was just her VI that sent it."

"Wonderful!" She throws up her hands in exasperation. "How are we supposed to keep them hidden if she has record of their birth?!" Garrus growls as too many thoughts of all the ways that could turn bad real quick. "What fucked up thinking-"

"Easy, Shep," Kasumi soothes and there's a pause before his wife's shoulders droop as she sighs.

Seeing her easing, he rumbles and frowns in confusion. They should be thinking of all the possibilities of this information getting out. Shadow Broker or not, Liara has already proven that she wasn't able to cover all traces of them when Juna Procris managed to find them. All she had to do was hide his family's presence in the work camp, but it managed to slip through the cracks. The asari was proving that she can't divide her attention between her Network and Thessia.

"No. Don't try to cover for her, Kasumi," he demands with a growl. "She's putting her people before those that actually treated her like family. We need that information wiped from her databases. There can be _no_ trace of our children. Do you have any idea what could happen to them?"

His mate lays a hand on his thigh to calm him and, he can't help it, he starts to cool as if her hand could sap him of his rage. "Kasumi. Can you talk to her? You are the best at staying unnoticed, you could get to her on Thessia without anyone ever connecting the two of you. You worked with her during the war, you know how her Network works."

"I'll see what I can do, but, Shep, Garrus, you should really should trust her. She knows what she's doing."

"I'd like to believe that, Kasumi. I really would," he admits. "But you forget how truly young she is. She thinks she has to help her people personally, go planetside and practically rebuild with her own two hands. She doesn't realize she's needed elsewhere, that she is a big part of keeping _all_ of the galaxy together."


	44. Chapter 44

Jane

"I cannot _wait_ until we can finally eat something that doesn't include the letters M, R, or E." Her husband chuckles at that as she takes his hand on their way down the docks towards the Normandy. They each spent the hour they needed to wait for the food shipment on their own, deciding to save time by splitting up. "I wonder who I can manage to strong arm into cooking something that isn't Vega's eggs."

"I just want something that doesn't look like the twin's food."

"Goop?" He nods and she bumps her shoulder to his side. "There, there. I'm sure there's some solid food in the supplies now. Now we just need to know someone who can cook turian cuisine because, let's face it, you suck at it."

He shrugs and says, "I'm not really in the position to deny that."

Snorting, she grins with she gets an idea she hadn't thought of until now. "Hey! We can mash up some of your food and feed the kids. They shouldn't have to eat that gross looking baby food every day. They can have fresh!" It's his turn to snort, drawing her brow up in question. "Oh, do explain your amusement."

"They should already be starting on eating solid food, weaning off the paste." He smiles down at her and spreads a mandible to show his teeth. "They already have their teeth in and are teething-"

"Yeah," she responds with a chuckle. "By chewing on daddy's plates."

Garrus shrugs. "It's normal for them to do that. I used to do it to my dad, apparently." He squeezes her hands and purrs in that loving way over their children. It is a sound she never thought they'd have the chance to hear given past circumstances. "But I meant that they are of an age to start practicing chewing meat. Most turian babies are eating solids at one and a half, so now is a good time to start getting them used to it, supplementing some of their diet with some of my food while they get most of their nutrition from their own."

"Good thing _one_ of us has an idea on what to do," she says as she shakes her head. "I have a feeling like we're way out of our depth and just getting deeper the older they get."

He chuckles. "I'm just remembering from when my parents were tending to my sister. I'd often stay up with my mother while she tended to Sol despite her telling me to go to bed." Feeling him stop, Jane turns to look at him in question, but before she can ask, he exhales heavily. "I don't really know what I'm doing, either." He huffs a laugh before rumbling in his chest, showing her a smile. "I guess this is like a mission. We go in without a clue and, what do you say, wing it?"

She laughs, looking up to the purple tinted sky and shaking her head as she collects herself. "Not how I'd imagine our parenting style would be, but it sure does fit. God damn, if they get out of this as normal, functioning adults, it'll be a bigger miracle than surviving the war."

"I don't know about 'normal'," he says with a chuckle and lopsided grin when she looks to him. "It would take normal parents for that to happen." Garrus shrugs. "And normal is just so _boring_."

Snorting softly, Jane playfully pushes his side to make him stumble a step. He mock growls before grabbing her hand and yanks her over. Her own boots scuff over the floor before she chuckles and pushes again, the two wrestling like children on the gangplank. The closer to the Normandy airlock they rough house, the clearer it becomes that there is someone awaiting them, leaning against the wall outside of the closed airlock chamber.

The two of them come to an almost comical halt, one of her mate's hands tangled in her hair as he ruffles it, his other's talons hooked almost indecently into the edge of her ass guard. Her own hands are either trying to get his own out of her now-messy hair or jab him with her fingers in his unguarded waist. They certainly must look like quite the pair of 'professionals', the Spectres that dragged the galaxy into victory over the end, but their guest doesn't seem all that bothered by it.

It's not like they'd care, anyways. Not when this is one of the few times they can relax without the fucked up state of the galaxy hovering over their heads. Hell, if not for now and their children, they'd probably be a trigger pull away from just calling it quits. Not the retirement they'd have wanted, but probably the best that would come to them if they ever allow the stress and darkness of the after-war galaxy strangle them.

"I was wondering when you'd notice me," Sephone, the brute of an asari, says as she hoists her weapon onto her shoulder.

"Uh… Hello?" Jane looks up to her mate, only to get a shrug of unhelpfulness. "We figured you'd be with the rest of the _Glory's_ crew," she says as she gently pushes the unhelpful turian off her and tries to reclaim control of her unruly curls. With her half assed attempt resulting in nothing but getting a chuckle from her husband, she gives up and settles with giving him a half-hearted glare.

"Actually." The woman draws their attention again with as she stands straight. "I was wanting to see what I'd have to do to sign on with you."

"What's wrong with the Republics?" Garrus shifts to cross his arms, suspicion written all over his face if Jane knows him as well as she does.

The woman snorts dismissively and nudges her duffle of belongings with her boot as she steps around it. "I'm a freelancer. I signed up for the war so I could kick some Reaper ass." She lowers her weapon and motions down the docks. "Now? All I'm doing is glorified escort duty. This was the most action I've seen since the war. I'm itching for a good fight."

"We don't make a habit of looking for them, but they always manage to find their way to us" Jane says as she looks to her husband for agreement, seeing him nod slightly. "One thing, first. We can't pay you."

"Pay me in ammo, upgrades, food, and a bunk and I'm yours." When Jane raises a brow at that, Sephone shrugs. "Every shit credit I earned with the Asari Republics was spent on just that, so I won't be losing anything."

Jane nods and looks to her husband. "Give her the spiel while I send word ahead to the Normandy to make sure we got everything?" He nods and steps forward to give her some relative quiet to check in with the Cargo crew. "Cargo. Have the shipment of food supplies come in?"

" _Hey, Lola! Why didn't you tell me we were getting some real food?! This is incredible!"_

She chuckles and shakes her head at the enthusiasm that she's sure is shared by the entire crew. "It was a surprise, but now that you've snooped into our stores, you can be the first to make the ground team something to eat." She can practically hear him grin before adding, "And if you cook huevos rancheros, I am going to beat you with that frying pan. Make some food that won't blow out any of the crew's assholes."

" _Awww_ … _But what if I go easy on it?"_

"No. Some people don't have stomachs of steel," she says before chuckling. "You _do_ know how to cook something else, right?"

" _Yeah, yeah… I'll think up something. Esteban! We're cooking tonight!"_

 _Who knows what we're eating tonight_. "Good. And get the word out that this is one of those mandatory squad building exercises." The comm cuts off from the ship's end with a chuckle and she returns to the other two just in time to hear Garrus say, "And whatever happens on the ship, stays on the ship. Understood?"

Sephone smirks and nods once. "So long as it's something illegal, my lips are sealed."

Jane can't help her amusement at that, and how they have skirted that line quite a few times already, and barks a laugh. Offering her hand, she grins and says, "Welcome aboard, Sephone. Find yourself an empty bunk and be at the Mess tonight for dinner. Mandatory."

The tall woman gives a mock salute before grabbing her bag and walking to the airlock. "You coming with or got some more foreplay to do?" She smirks over her shoulder as she taps the console, the interface turning bright green and doors sliding open.

"Oh, if this were foreplay, you'd know it," Jane responds with a smirk and wave of her hand to go on ahead. "But I'll let you know if it turns that way."

"Please do."

The doors shut and turn red to signal the beginning of the decontamination cycle, and the return to their playful shoving match when he puts the flat of his hand on her shoulder and shoves. Yelping, she trips over her own feet, but catches herself on the wall. "Oh, this isn't over," she threatens only to receive a smirk and - could it be - a hand gesture of hand flat and fingers waving. If that isn't 'bring it', then she's got her head up her ass. "You little-"

He tries to sweep her legs and she jumps over them, leaning forward to flick his nose. He makes a scoffing sort of snort as he lifts a hand over her head, grabs her nearly exploded bun, and pulls teasingly, dipping her head forward. The move throws her off balance and she stumbles forward, closer to him. Using the move to her advantage, she flattens and makes her hand rigid before jabbing it into his unguarded waist. He grunts and reaches for her hand before she can do it again, but in this position, she can easily twist out from under his other arm.

Rounding on him, she grins and pushes his heavily armored back. "Getting slow, Vakarian."

His hum is all she's ready for before he moves, grabbing her by the waist and lifting her. She makes an indignant noise as he throws her over his shoulder. "And you're getting complacent, Vakarian," he retorts as he bounces her, making her glare at the airlock door.

Crossing her arms in a pout she will never admit to having, she looks down at his back as he turns and starts to walk towards the airlock. A kick of her legs only gets another bounce as he shifts her back into place. "Having fun?"

"Yep."

 _Shit head_. Smirking when she gets an idea, she tries not to advertise her intent as she uncrosses her arms and reaches down. "Are you going to let me down?"

"You know." He hums as if actually thinking about it. "I think I'll just carry you up to the Loft."

She hears his hand pat her rear just as her fingers find the latches of his rear guard. "Well, I guess I'll just have to play dirty." Flipping the latches of his armor, she barks an 'ah-ha' as the heavy metal plate falls to the ground with a heavy thump.

He shifts to look behind him and kick the armor piece towards the door. "You'll have to do better than that. You're only making my job-"

" _Hey, uh… Whenever you want to get on the ship would be great. So we can, you know,_ _ **leave**_ _?"_

Jane snorts at Joker's impatient voice and pats her husband's back. "Alright, you heard the man. Let's get inside. And preferably with my dignity and the ability to make commands without every crew member thinking of me bent over your shoulder."

He exhales a dejected sigh and over exaggerates as he lets his shoulders droop. "If you _insist_."

Once put down, she smiles up at him and grabs his cowl piece to pull him down into a nuzzle. "You're a shit, you know that?"

"Yes, but I'm yours," he responds smugly.

"Yeah, yeah. Keep that up and I might change my mind and try to get myself a refund." Bending over to pick up his discarded armor piece, she makes a show of brushing it off before handing it back. He chuckles and snaps it back into place over his ass before following as she heads to the impatiently awaiting airlock - Joker's doing, no doubt.

Not missing a chance to be a wise ass, Garrus says as they step in and start the decontamination cycle. "You can only get a refund if you have a receipt." She feels him shift behind her just before hearing his deep rumbling in her ear. "And I'm pretty sure you don't have one."

Jane snorts and shoves an elbow back to hide the prickling of her skin. "I'd _give_ you back free of charge if I had to."

"Ouch." Despite his mock hurt, his hands lay on her thigh guards and he steps closer. It is only a moment before she feels his muzzle against her neck, his mandibles flickering softly against the sensitive spot just below her ear. "But, the question is," he whispers in that way that only makes the hairs stand higher on her skin, but she'll be damned if she shivers and gives herself away ever more than her growing scent is. "Why would you ever want to?"

She can't keep it in and shivers, cursing inwardly when she feels more than hears his rumbling chuckle at her back, even with all their armor. Trying to throw him a side glare for doing this all so easily - and taking _way_ too much enjoyment out of it - she says coyly. "I can think of a few reasons…"

"Ouch," he merely repeats with a complete lack of hurt as his hands slide up to her armorless waist and pulls her back until their armors clank. "I guess I'll have to give you reasons why you would _never_ want to get rid of me."

She smirks and turns her head to catch his eye. "You'd have to be a damn good boy for that," she retorts with a heated whisper of her own as she runs her hands down to the juts of his hip guards to try and pull him closer than they already are. "You're way to full of yourself that I think you'll have to earn the right to that ego of yours."

He catches on quickly to the silent dare of switching the direction of this encounter and growls his ascent, dipping his head down to run a rough tongue along her neck. "I am yours to command."

" _Uh… hate to interrupt_." Yet, the pilot's voice says the complete opposite. _Honestly, for a guy that watches porn at his station, he is quite the prude when it comes to crew members getting ready to fuck in the airlock. "But you think you can take this to your Cabin? I'd rather not have the sight or smell of what you are about to do so close to the cockpit in my head when I try to eat later."_

Knowing the relationship between the pilot and her husband and how it's been tenuous after Garrus blames him for her death, she lays a hand on her mate's cheek in silent 'be quiet'. He hums his understanding even though he audible huffs in irritation and she looks to the airlock camera. "Joker, I'm sure it'll air out before Cortez and Vega finish dinner," she says with a smirk and blatant show of running her tongue down Garrus' mandible.

Joker makes a gagging sound before responding. " _Yeah, but the_ _ **images**_ _…"_

Tsking as she shakes her head, she steps away from Garrus as the cycle comes to an end and the chamber doors slide open. She takes the annoyed turian's hand and pulls him with her as she rounds the corner and steps into the cockpit. "So… you're saying I should start sending you copies of what we do in the Loft?"

"You do, and I'm sending us all into the closest sun," Joker deadpans and she laughs, feeling her husband tugging her hand to follow.

She knows she has mere seconds before he hauls her bodily down the CIC, so she starts backing at his direction, but not before calling out. "I got your extranet address! So don't worry!" An impatient tug of her hand gets her stumbling a step before she speeds up, rushing alongside her husband as he seems to be struggling between maintaining his walk and just picking her up to carry her. "In a hurry, are we?"

"You don't know what it's like to have yourself pressed up against the inside of your armor," he retorts with a smirk and she grins, heat flushing through her body at the thought that he was getting just as much enjoyment out of their 'conversation' in the airlock as she was.

The doors of the lift don't even close before he's on her, cupping her cheek and smashing his mouth to hers. She moans at his force, feeling his tongue snatch up the opportunity to slide into her mouth and curl around her tongue. Her own hands run fingers over his face as their tongues taste and explore, but she has a plan for this time, and it doesn't involve him taking control.

Grabbing his fringe in both hands, she hears him get out a growl of warning just before she steadily pulls back. Her mate has no choice but to step back and lean into her grasp, exposing his throat. She smirks at the small victory of reclaiming the control she was starting to build back in the airlock and steps closer to run her teeth over his vibrating throat. "Don't forget who's in charge her, Vakarian."

"Just seeing… if you were paying attention."

She isn't all that surprised that, even know, he still has that attitude she loves, but she doesn't let it slide as she bites hard on his throat. Even though it only makes him groan and his hands dig into her unarmored waist, she knows he gets the picture when he bends down just slightly to give her more control. "Much better. Good boy."

Garrus' only response is a rumble and slide of hands over her armor just as the elevator chimes on their floor. _Time to move this game to the Cabin_. She lets go of his fringe with both the knowledge that he is all for playing the submissive this time and that they have little time to actually play out the dominance struggle. They will either agree now or waste all their time trying to figure it out because she's damn sure that neither wants to miss out on an actual meal after so long without. She doesn't know how she should feel when considering that food is more important than sex right about now.

Already pulling off their gloves, the two step into their Cabin just as Rym steps out of the nursery. While they are used having someone up here to watch them while they're off the ship up until the time Garrus or Jane can take 'twin duty', they certainly wouldn't have guessed Rym to be one of the volunteers. Hell, it would be downplay if they said she was anything _but_ willing to watch the kids.

Not that Rym had a distaste for children or that she was not cut out for the job, but it was obvious that the poor woman was still so young that she feared the idea of them. 'How am I supposed to hold them without breaking them?' 'What if I drop them?' 'They are too tiny, are they healthy?' Many more questions came out of her mouth that only managed to entertain Jane and Garrus more than make them worry for their offspring. Rym was a caring person, that was obvious in the way she cared for her people's future, but she certainly wasn't mother material just yet.

"Rym?" Garrus has to audibly clamp down on his vocals for his voice to come out clearer, not so thick from arousal. "I thought you excused yourself from 'twin duty'."

"I did," she says as she opens her Tool, sending something to each of theirs by the unison beep and light up. "I was installing something. Call it a 'gift'."

" 'Gift'?" Jane looks to her confused mate. Since when were they receiving gifts from the crew? Oh, hell, does this mean they have to start doing the same back?

"Yeah. I hear humans have some special thing for getting a year older." Rym shrugs, as if letting the strange notice fall off her shoulders and out of her head. "Anyways, I thought this would be easier than having someone up her all the time." Stepping besides Jane, the krogan shows the screen of her Tool containing an image of the dual cribs and their sleeping occupants. "I installed a monitoring system using one of the desk terminals in Cargo storage."

"You took it apart?" Jane raises a brow in question and Rym nods, grinning proudly. "Well, let's just hope it didn't have anything someone forgot that they'd need later."

"How many of the crew have connection to this feed?" Garrus opens his own Omni-Tool to take a look at the live feed of their sleeping children.

Rym taps a few commands on her Tool before the image disappears. "Now? Only you two. I cut my connection because I won't be watching them. Too delicate." She shakes her head and glances at the door before returning her eyes to them. "You can open a temporary connection to anyone else's Tool for when you leave the ship, but yours are the master links." Her brow draws down as she points a scolding finger at them. "Don't break the link by erasing anything. I don't have another terminal to disassemble for its communications camera."

Both parents chuckle as Jane nods and steps aside to let Rym pass. "Thank you, Rym. It's a great birthday present for the kids. And… I think you might like what we got for everyone on the ship as a, well, gift for just being badasses." When the woman looks at her dubiously, Jane snorts and motions the lift. "I'd give it an hour or two, but you'll soon smell the surprise cooking."

Eyes widen as her mouth opens in silent shock. "You got _food_? Real food?"

"Yep. None of that cardboard shit, too." She pats the woman's back as the krogan all but rushes to the lift. "But don't eat without us!" she shouts into the closing doors before heading back to the Cabin, hands already returning to their previous task of divesting herself of her armor.

She stops, once again, midway down the steps as she sees Garrus half undressed and looking at something in his hand, a box on the bed. The few wedged around the lounge, she knows are personal items they bought on Illium, but that one she doesn't recognize. "What's that?" He looks to her when she steps to his side and hands over a handwritten note. Without reading it, Jane sees a signature she recognizes and chuckles. "I'll be damned. 'I expect to get a better look of the twins when you have a real birthday party, but I couldn't help giving their gifts now. Kasumi'." She hands the note back to her mate to set aside and looks closer at the package wrapped in actual paper of stars and spaceships. "How fitting," Jane says before snorting and reaching for it, only to be stopped by a hand.

"Let's open it later," her mate says with a purr, taking the box in his other hand to set on the lounge table. "The babies are asleep anyways, so it's better not to wake them just to show them their presents. We have… more important things to do before the Mess calls," he adds with a smirk and seductive growl as he reaches for the snaps of her armor.


	45. Chapter 45

Jane

"Wait," she says with a hand on her mate's chest, urging him back. His brow plate raises in skepticism and she answers with a smirk and head shake. _You'll have to wait and see._ "Get naked."

"How seductive," he jokes with a chuckle, but slowly starts to work at the buckles of his armor.

Chuckling at his attempt for a strip show that isn't as effective when he's practically humming with impatience, she twirls her finger in the air. "Faster. I have a surprise for you." His brow raises again and she can tell the curiosity is nearly killing him, but he eventually nods and starts shedding his armor. She leaves him to tend to his person as she searches through the crates of what they bought on Illium.

Among essentials, she knows the two of them used those extra credits they wheedled out of the Council for more personal items. She got him a new visor that she'll gift to him soon and a new sketchbook with necessary supplies. Then there were some clothes for themselves and a couple of outfits for the kids, some new toys for the twins, and some new _toys_ for mom and dad. _Who wouldn't want to spend their first paycheck after a raise on sex toys?_

Finding what she's looking for, she hides her grin of excitement as she turns to him. He's already completely stripped, undersuit and all, and his erection stands at attention, hard and ready in anticipation. What better way than now to show him his surprise?

Cocking her hip as best as she can in full armor, she dangles her newly purchased collar from her forefinger by its large, silver ring. She can see the moment his eyes catch it and realization hit his eyes widen just slightly, pupils dilate, and growl deepen to make heat pool in her belly. That delicious eat travels lower and she has to fight not to try and rub her thighs together at the animalistic look he gives her when he steps closer.

His hand reaches out to the large turian collar, but she slaps his hand away. "You may be wearing this, but it's not for you." She grabs his cowl and yanks him down to her level. "This is for me," she whispers seductively, breath fanning against his face. "Get on your knees."

She sees a flash of defiance in his eyes, but a downward shove on his cowl and foot on his spur push him down to the ground with a heavy thump. Rumbling deeply, he raises his hands to touch her, but a light boot tap to his waist in warning stops him and his hands fall back to his sides. "You're learning."

"I don't have much choice. You're still in full armor and I'm-"

"Getting too smart for your own good," she corrects with a flick to his nose, making him snarl softly. "Now be quiet until spoken to."

"Yes, Mistress," he says with a deep, rhythmic purr. If that isn't a big enough sign of his willingness to play, the massive, blue length between his thighs is.

"Good boy," she practically purrs back as she takes the collar into both of her hands.

It's a magnificent piece of pleasurable torture and whoever made this black treasure definitely had turians in mind. The inside lining is made of a coarse material, leather most like, and it is divided into bands. Each has a few centimeters of separate between that are grouped together the front and back by a single strip that both keeps them from splaying too far apart over the long turian neck, but gives a base for both the closure and leash ring. _Who knew turians could be so kinky as a whole and not just Garrus?_

Jane lets her hand caress over the long fringe before her and relishes the rolling growl that erupts from her pet's throat a moment before lining the collar up with his neck. Reaching back, she is happy to see him get into it so much that he tilts his head down to help her see the buckles. There are two for extra support and, once both are secured, she kisses the top of her husband's head.

Sure, it's not something typical of pet and Mistress play, but how could she not take a small moment to show how much she loves that he will do this with her. While not the first time, she still considers it the biggest gift for him to willingly hand over dominance and for the two of them to be so damn comfortable with it.

"Stay," she orders as she steps back and slowly begins to strip down. She could take time to tease him, make him watch her as she fiddles with the snaps as if it were the first time ever in armor, but _who has the time for that?_

When she is down to just her undersuit, she finally allows Garrus on the floor with a crook of a finger. He practically jumps to his feet and rushes to her, rumbling and clicking in urgent arousal. She drops her hands from her undersuit zipper and raises a brow. "Go slow."

His vibrating vocals wash over her like surging waves and she closes her eyes as his hands slide over her shoulders before closing around the closure of her suit. His sounds grow louder as he moves closer, his hot breath against her throat and neck a stark contrast to the chill air ghosting over her chest and belly as the suit parts under his fingers. Sighing softly, she tilts her head. "Do something productive with that mouth of yours."

She can feel the flick of his mandible in a smirk a moment before his tongue laves at her neck, its rough surface bringing the tiny hairs along her body to stand on end. Impatience takes over as she helps his hands strip off her undersuit and hums seductively when she hears his deeper growl when her arousal hits his nose. Three fingered hands wrap around her hips as he nips at her flesh, but that's way too much control for the situation.

Without him expecting it, she grabs his mandible and pulls, pulling a shocked trill from his throat. He has no choice but to follow or else suffer a dislocation, at it opens up his neck as she steps forward and whispers. "Did I tell you you could touch me?"

"No, Mistress."

The thickness of her husband's voice nearly makes her shiver and she can feel her thighs grow slicker as she runs her tongue along his mandible. "Then don't do it again or I'll have to end this little game." She nearly laughs at his worried whine, but holds it at bay when she gets a look at his darkened eyes. He won't be able to continue this much longer before he just takes things into his own hands, too worked up to control himself. As much as she likes that particular side of him, this is her show.

Pushing him roughly away, she rounds him and walks to the bed to sit on the edge. His eyes watch her intently up until the point where she spreads her legs. Once she does that, all attention falls between her legs as he storms to the bed. "Ah, ah," she scolds as she closes her legs. "Knees."

His engine-like growl could be mistaken as a grumble, exasperated and questioning his involvement in this game, but she knows him better. He may be struggling to follow directions because he both is a rebellious man as well as being almost too far gone within his own lust, but they both know he gets more enjoyment out of that leather wrapped around his neck than he should.

Kneeling at his place between her legs, he nuzzles her knee and lower thigh with needy and pleading chirps. Jane lays a hand on his fringe and pets him, demanding more than asking, "What do you want?"

"You, Mistress," he says with thick vocals, almost too drowned out and distorted in her translator. "Always you."

His words make her smile at the thought that, even like this, he can manage to say something so _him_ that it reminds her why and how she fell for him in the first place. She squeezes his middle fringe once before spreading her legs. "Then have me until I tell you to stop."

His enthusiasm is perhaps out of character for their play, but what the hell. His tongue and mouth are doing their job in distracting her as he laps and rubs his mouth plates along her soaking folds. Her growls when she moans shamelessly and grips his fringe before remembering her place. Biting back any more outbursts of pleasure, she drops a shaky hand to his fringe to stroke as she sighs, his long tongue sliding into her and curling against her G-spot.

"Fuck… What a good boy." Her free hand cups her breast and kneads in contrast to his urgent licking and grinding in effort to keep her sounds to pleased sighs and hums. There is no need to give her 'pet' an ego.

She's almost too far gone to hear the doors of their Cabin sliding open, but, if she were, the loud snarl from between her legs that is anything _but_ aroused sure would have made her aware. She isn't even aware she cups her mate's head to her, well, crotch, to still and calm him in the instant that her eyes focus and brain switched from 'sexed crazed' mode into 'alert and ready to take out the dumbass who interrupted' mode.

First her eyes pick up their unofficial XO, then her brain has a distant thought of 'who the hell left the door open?' before she scowls. "What the fuck, Arcanus?" She hears another growl that vibrates deliciously against her cunt - and makes it all the more difficult to think. "When we said 'open door policy' we didn't actually mean 'walk the hell in whenever you damn well please'."

"There are manners that require your attention." Unphased by the scene before him, Reguix crosses his hands behind his back. "Your Omni-Tools are still registering as 'off-duty'."

"Wonder why that is," Garrus grumbles from between her thighs, not moving from his spot.

"It is imperative that, while on the ship, you allow communications to be received by your Tools." He hums as he motions to them with a single hand. "Else this will happen."

Jane rolls her eyes and fights hard not to flop back on the bed in exasperation. "Fine, fine. Are you going to tell us so we can get back to it or are you standing there because you want to join?"

The warning sounds from Garrus speaks volumes of his opinion of that offer, but it's not like she'd ever follow up on it. Sure, the older turian rocks a robe and dangly things on his mandibles, but his much too rigid. _No pun intended._ Nothing and no one compares to the man currently waiting between her have metal thighs to get back to work.

"Your mate's objection in but a second reason why I must decline," Arcanus says as he motions the terminal on the desk just beside the couch. "A Shadow Broker agent is urgently requesting to speak to you."

Garrus shifts just enough to lay his chin on her thigh as he licks his mandibles and mouth plates before turning to speak. "Liara shuts us off, but comes crawling back when she needs something? Why am I not surprised?"

"It is not the Shadow Broker herself that is contacting you." He turns to leave, tossing a "I would not delay" over his shoulder before stepping out.

Her mate sighs heavily before nuzzling her thigh. "Can't we just forget the call and continue?"

"You know we can't," she says with an equal amount of frustration in her tone. Caressing his fringe one last time, she gently urges him to sit back. "Let me see what it is and maybe we can get back to it like nothing happened… Well, minus the intrusion."

All she gets in response is something in turian that is too low to be translated as she gets up and walks back to her undersuit. Obviously whoever it is contacting them on the Broker's behalf wants to keep this private. Why they can't just tell Arcanus and save them the pain in the ass, she doesn't know, but it's something she is going to get to the bottom of.

She doesn't even bother zipping up the suit as she storms to the terminal and jabs her finger down on the command to bring it to life with the force of her irritation. She's a second away from ripping the caller a new asshole when it flickers to life to a familiar face. "Feron?"

The drell smiles and, after a moment to take her in, clears his throat. He pays close attention to look away as he says, "Shepard. It's been a long time. Good to see you well after the war-"

"You're rambling."

"Right. Apologies." Another throat clearing before his dark eyes look up to hers. "I am calling to request your help in assisting one of the Shadow Broker's agents. They've dropped out of contact shortly after sending us a troubling message."

She crosses her arms just as Garrus comes up behind her, growling low. "We ask Liara of our friends, our allies, and she ignores us. Now she wants us to save one of _her_ people?" He snorts sarcastically. "She must be out of her mind."

Feron frowns and rubs his neck. "Liara actually doesn't know of this agent or their task. It's one of many tasks I see to with my position. I know Liara would help you, it's just that…" Jane can tell he's measuring his words, trying to think of the least offending statement for all involved. "She is having trouble tending to all matters."

"Meaning she's focusing more on her people, on Thessia."

"Garrus, enough." Better to end this before it gets nasty. Whatever beef they have with Liara is something that doesn't need to include the man. "Feron, is this really only something we can do? Don't you have other agents?"

"I had a good feeling you'd want to be involved." He taps into the terminal off screen. "It involves Cerberus."

Huffing a laugh, Jane shakes her head. "When will they realize they lost?" She looks to her mate to see him still naked and hard and wonders vaguely if Feron sees it or if Garrus is just off to the side to be out of the camera's view. Seeing his refusal to help and understanding it, but unable to say no, she sighs and sends an apologetic look. "We'll go, Feron." That gets a none too amused glare. She'll have to make it up to her husband later. "Send us the information."

"Sending now." A notification shows up on their screen. "You'll need to go to Sanctum in the Decoris System, Sigurd's Cradle. Their is a Cerberus lab that was researching the Reapers during the war."

"And why do you care about it now?"

"Because, Shepard." His eyes look back from his terminal offscreen and he motions with his hands as he explains. "We still know close to nothing about them, about why they were harvesting organic life. You've given the galaxy some insight, but what about the Reaper's search into the solution to dark energy? What did they know and what were they thinking? Could the research Cerberus has shed any light or answer any of these questions?"

Garrus hums in thought, probably understanding that her mind is set and that there is nothing to do but go along with the mission. "And there's no better way to find out than to take the data. I'm assuming this agent's goal wasn't to find themselves in combat? With only one person, this was supposed to be an in-and-out data retrieval. What went wrong?"

"We don't know. The last transmission we received simply requested an alternative route of extraction." Feron frowns. "Seeing as how they had two options already and they are no longer responding to communications, we expect they have either been captured or are in a position where they cannot extract themselves alone."

"What if they just took the data?" Jane asks as she drops her arms, pulling up a chair to read the dossier once communications are cut. With the urgency needed, she and her mate are, unfortunately, going to have to postpone the current activities.

The drell man shakes his head, saying, "This agent has been with the Shadow Broker for years. They don't even know that control changed hands. There is no doubt of their loyalty and betrayal is not something to expect from them."

Hearing the heavy, disappointed sigh, beside her, she turns to watch her mate walk to the bed and sit down heavily. "Looks like we're taking a detour… again."


	46. Chapter 46

Garrus

Sanctum is, as is typical of his luck, cold. He is skeptical of this supposed 'temperate and habitable' territory along the equator that houses facilities belonging to the few insane enough to choose this planet to conduct business. It is beyond him why anyone in their right mind would willingly find themselves on frozen hells like this place, or worse, Noveria.

Just the thought sends a shiver down his spine and he can't help checking the seal of his helmet for the third time. Out of the peripheral of his visor, he sees his wife raise a brow and smirk in amusement and considers how their years together has made her all too observant of his tells. Leave it to my loving wife to make fun of my suffering.

He huffs in a feigned pout, knowing she sees it by her grin. Their other teammate, Sephone, hasn't caught onto their near silent conversation, but it's going to become very obvious as Jane relaxes in her seat, arms crossed and legs stretched out. "You know, I love weather like this. So refreshing." She chuckles lightly and nudges him with her shoulder. "You'd be able to enjoy it too if you took off your helmet."

"I'd rather not," he deadpans. "I like my mandibles as they are and prefer they not fall off from frostbite."

Snorting, Jane motions him with her thumb and asks Sephone, "You believe this? He lives his whole life on that oven of a planet and doesn't even enjoy the cool breeze."

He snorts at that as the asari chuckles, leaning with an elbow on her knee as if sharing a secret. "I think it's a male thing. My own man bitched every time temps drops just a couple degrees." She barks a laugh as she leans back, a leg stretching out. "And he was a damn human."

"That would explain your vocabulary," Garrus says and his mate jabs a finger in his waist, making him jump. "What was that for?"

"Admit it. You love our language."

His mate's fluttering eyelashes nearly makes him laugh, she never being one to make flirty gestures - well, none that are so subtle - but he controls it down to a mere rumbling as he crosses his arms to try and appear unconvinced. "Without translation, you sound like a fish out of water."

Jane burst into laughter, even pulling Sephone into the mirth, and hits his chestpiece with a fist. "You little shit! At least I don't sound like a car breaking down."

"Shepard," Cortez comes onto the shuttle intercom, pulling out of their light banter. "We're closing in on the drop point."

"How far are we from the actual base?"

Garrus opens his Tool to check, answering the asari's question. "Five kilometers. We should be able to beat the oncoming storm." He sighs and closes the interface. "But our luck says we'll be stuck in it half way to the Cerberus complex."

Jane drums her fingers on her arm guard in some melody as chuckles, not breaking the pace of whatever rhythm she has in her head. "You're such a baby. Some walking will do you good."

He is saved from a witty remark when Sephone asks, "And what's the situation? We're looking for a Shadow Broker agent, right?"

"Yes." Garrus lets his wife focus on her usual pre-battle routine of clearing her mind and gives their squadmate the information. "Codenamed Gypsy, our contact with the Broker says they lost contact directly after requesting an evacuation. Apparently, their first two options aren't possible."

"Why couldn't they just fight their way out? We talking a noncombatant?"

His wife shakes her head and he hums in the negative. "They deal in espionage for the Broker, not direct combat. Hence the solitary nature. Less people means less possibility of being found out."

"What makes you think they're even still kicking?" Sephone raises a brow, making her delicate facial paints twist. "I'm not complaining about getting to blow things up, but this could all be for nothing."

He shrugs and crosses his arms, leaning back against the wall of the shuttle. "When we find evidence that they're dead, we see about collecting the data ourselves and get out of there."

His mate finally stops drumming her fingers and says, "I doubt our Gypsy is dead. The communication asked for a way out, not to confirm a mission failure. Say what you want about the way the Shadow Broker agents work, but they tend to be blunt. If they ask for backup instead of saying they're about to get the bucket, they mean it."

The woman snorts and chuckles. "And why you doing the Broker this favor?"

"No 'favor'," Jane corrects with a shake of her head. "One thing we've learned is to never work on empty 'favors'. You want something, you do something. You do something without planning stating you'll be owed? Then don't expect to ever hear about it again."

"Sounds like you're mercs," Sephone says with a smirk, the gesture speaking of experience.

Garrus looks over to his mate to share a knowing look before he chuckles deeply. "You might say that."

When the shuttle beneath their feet starts to slow in the telltale signs of descending towards their destination, his mate stands and rolls her shoulders. "Cortez, anything on the comms? The Broker sent us a decryption key for Gypsy's supposed channel."

" _No response yet. I'm linking your comms to the channel so you can try to contact Gypsy out in the field."_ A pause. " _I did find something you might want to check out."_

"Let's hear it," Jane says as she locks her helmet on and Garrus nods to Sephone to do the same. Standing up, he hits the hatch controls to open the massive door to the chilled air of the dense forest of bare and shivering trees. Even over his heavy sigh at the sight of dark clouds closing in from their ten, which just so happens to be their destined direction, Garrus can hear Cortez explaining the situation through their comms.

" _Scans show an unnatural clearing one a three kilometers from our location. I couldn't get close enough to get a look, though. Not without attracting that Cerberus facility's attention."_

"Might be worth a look," Garrus agrees and looks over to see his wife nod in affirmative. She hands him his rifle and snaps on her own shotgun to her hip. Sephone doesn't even need to be told to take out her custom-painted launcher, patting it lovingly before tightening her bandolier. "We ready to jump?"

Jane is first to nod and pats his shoulder in 'go ahead'. Motioning Sephone to follow his lead, he jumps from shuttle still lowering its position and uses a tree fallen to lean against another to break his fall, sliding along the bark with his booted feet. He hears an exclaimed 'fuck that' and wonders if the asari didn't understand his gesture as he sees Jane jump from the shuttle and forgo the tree landing. Her heavy boots land on the moist soil and decaying leaves with a thud, her artificial legs keeping her from sustaining any injuries from the height just above too high.

"Come on, Sephone!" Jane shouts to the shuttle as it lowers to a safer height, letting the woman off. "You can't tell me that drop was too much for your biotics."

"My biotics are shit, so, yeah, it probably was too much." Her fist rams on the shuttle in signal to move as she follows the two Spectres as they begin the trek through the desolate woods. "Why do you think I use a grenade launcher?"

Garrus shrugs as he removes his rifle from his back. "You like the 'whoof' sound it makes?"

"I don't know about you," Jane says as she pulls off her shotgun, checking it out of habit. "But I used to get wet just from the sound of that rifle of yours, Garrus."

He can practically imagine her smirk from the tone of her voice and shakes his head as Sephone snorts. "That Mantis? That's nothing compared to the bellow of a powerful heavy weapon."

His mate snorts as she gives him a head jerk towards the asari that speaks of how he should be the one to explain. Looking over his shoulder to the asari, he waits for her helmet to turn to his before explaining. "This Mantis is just… a placeholder, if you will."

"Oh? Do explain, Spectre."

Smirking at the unknowing amusement in her voice, Garrus rumbles, but it's Jane that actually says, "This bastard had a Black Widow. Fancied up and everything. That fucker could drop a Reaper."

Sephone snorts. "What a load of crap." Seeing Jane shrug, the woman looks both of them over, helmet tilting just slightly. "If it was so powerful, then why are you using _that_ piece of crap?"

"Because any weapon in my hands fires like a masterpiece?" Hearing both women bark a laugh, Garrus looks at his weapon and runs a hand over the blue paint. "I lost my rifle in the final push." His wife goes silent and her hands clench so noticeably at her sides from the mention of that day that he reaches down to wrap his own around her fist. Feeling her relax slightly, he huffs a humorless laugh. "Guess somebody else has their hands on my baby."

The asari grenadier seems to sense the change in moods and lets the conversation end there. She just so happens to need to check her Tool for the coordinates of their first destination, the suspicious clearing, and Garrus is thankful for at least the semblance of peace, leaning down to butt his helmet against his mate's. He can hear a faint sigh and emits a shameless purr of comfort over the comms, to which she responds with a deep breath that lifts her shoulders and reassuring squeeze of his hand.

He's always known that those moments where they thought they'd never seen the other again unless the existence of a 'heaven' was true were the hardest for her to life through. The pain and shock had successfully spared him the fear and agony of the possible end, but she was, for the most part, completely conscious of the reality. Even he thought he was going to die there pinned under the wreckage of what was once a tank. He would be lying to himself if he said he expected her to just shrug off the loss of so many - the potential loss of _him_ \- from her shoulders, that she would be okay after the end of the war and never be affected by it. He knows her 'control' is an effort of sheer will to keep up those walls that will only bring pain when they fall.

He knows she pulls through her dark thoughts when she releases his and and playfully pats his rear guard. Completely unexpected, it gets a jerk of surprise out of him and she laughs. Looking to her, he mock growls and reaches up to tap her helmet three times in silent request to switch to channel three without their squadmate noticing. Jane nods and adjusts the communications of her helmet.

" _Yeah?"_

"You should talk to me," he tells her, rumbling in wordless plea. "You can't let this eat you up."

She sighs. " _Trust me. I know, but you know how my mind works."_

"Unfortunately," he jokes and pulls a surprised snort of of her as she swats at his chest. "But I get it. Would finding you a sketchbook help?"

Drawing seemed to have helped her when they first met come to terms with letting go of those she lost on Akuze, so, he hopes, it will help her to release that pain and anger of what the war took from them. If not completely, then maybe it will help her find the words to come to him for help. After all, he can only help her through their Leviathan connection if she dreams of it, but her sleep seems devoid of anything but darkness, of which he is most concerned about.

" _I don't know. Maybe?_ " She says with a shrug as she takes his offered hand to climb over a fallen tree. " _Shame that I don't have one. Guess I should have bought one on Illium."_

"It's actually good you didn't." _What better time than now to let her know I did some gift shopping of my own. Well, I didn't get sex toys like she did._ He can tell she's confused by the tilt of her head when she looks at him and he rumbles warmly. "I was going to surprise you after you jumped me in the Cabin with your deviant sex toys."

She laughs loud enough that Sephone is bound to have heard before she even realizes what he actually said despite 'sex toys'. When she _does_ realize it, it's like a light as her breath gasps and her head snaps to him. " _You… You got me another book?"_

"With supplies and everything."

His wife - and he will take this to his grave before he admits to hearing it - makes a squeal sort of noise as she bounds over a tree's fallen limb. The excitement grabs Sephone's attention as she steps away from the unusually jovial Spectre and even holds her weapon out of Jane's reach, as if a child protecting her favorite toy.

" _You magnificent asshole!_ " The redhead he loves yells just before crashing her armored arms around him, startling him as he climbs halfway over the same fallen debris. " _I love you!_ "

Chuckling, he wraps an arm around her back and lifts her up and over the branch with him, walking a few steps before letting her down. "I love you too, Jane-"

"Ahem!" The asari's near scream for attention makes them look over to her as she motions her helmet. A quick switch to the shared comm lets them hear her as she says, "I'm sure I probably don't want to know what brought that on, but we're getting close to that clearing your pilot was talking about."

Minds clear immediately at the alert and Garrus nods curtly. "Alright. Double time it."

He leads the others, capable of climbing navigating the seemingly dead woods with his lighter footsteps and better to lead so he can gauge the field before the others while also avoiding the effort to be slower than the two shorter legged women. Head down to avoid low hanging branches ready to clothesline him, he ducks under a thick tree leaning precariously against another and catches sight of what caused this unnatural clearing.

"Well…" Jane drifts off as she lowers her weapon to her hip while stepping out into the clearing, looking around a shuttle crash site. "I'd say we found one of Gypsy's escape plans." Garrus nods as he approaches the wreckage, opening his Omni-Tool to scan for survivors or indication of deceased occupants. "Find anything, Garrus?"

"No signs of life and no signs of Gypsy. If this is their shuttle, they survived and managed to get out without any apparent signs of injury." He motions the ground for the lack of blood. "Either this was a diversion for Cerberus or Gypsy was aboard. I say we try to contact them on the communications channel the Broker supplied us with. We should be in range of the facility should Gypsy be there."

"Or if they sent a 'mission failure' communication out."

Humming, he nods at his wife's statement without looking up from his Tool as he accesses the Broker supplied and encrypted communication channel that they have, as of yet, not tried to access in hopes that the less traffic, the better their chances to find Gypsy. How they were going to convinced the Shadow Broker agent that they were here to extract them was another matter. Broker agents that have the longest careers don't tend to freely hand out trust. "Who wants to be the first to convince the Broker spy that we're only here to rescue them?"

Jane snorts and shakes her head as she looks to her boots, starting to walk a tight circle around the shuttle. "Agent Gypsy, this is Spectre Shepard. Come in."

"Spectre?" She shrugs and he corrects, "People know you better as a Commander."

"Because that punch of yours sort of marked my retirement from the Alliance," she whispers and he nearly sighs with a wish that was true. "Now shut up and let me try to catch the white rabbit."

"What the hell is she talking about?" Sephone looks to him and he shakes his head, this not the time to explain human children's books to the asari.

" _Greetings, Commander Shepard,"_ a heavily modulated voice says over the comm.

"It's not-"

" _Apologies. Habits are hard to break."_

Garrus rumbles and closes his Tool to look up at the incoming storm. "Gypsy, we've been sent by the Shadow Broker. Where are you?"

A pause, most likely for the agent to think about the truth of their statement. " _I knew that the Broker assisted in the war effort. Although, I'll be honest, who didn't?"_ A silence before they speak again. " _The woods are bound to flood with the incoming sleet of the storm. It is safest to cover the rest of the way to the facility. Your shuttle can safely land on the above ground shuttle pads."_

"Hostiles?"

Another pause. " _Very few. After all I've heard about you, this should be a piece of cake,"_ they say with a hint of amusement. " _I admit I am looking forward to watching you and your team work first hand."_


	47. Chapter 47

Jane

"Can somebody _please_ get that damn Atlas off my ass! I'd very much appreciate being At-less…" she adds with a soft, humorless snort, trying to calm her adrenaline-filled heart and examine the field for a way around the massive mech.

"That was horrible, Jane."

"Agreed," Sephone adds just after a grenade flies over Jane's cover and into the advancing Atlas.

" _Agreed."_ When even the faceless Shadow Broker agent on the other end of their comms calls her pun as being just as horrible as she figured, it's time to rethink her method of regaining control of the situation.

Jane would have thought it easier to take down Cerberus after the both the Illusive Man's death _and_ destruction of any kind of Reaper connections these forces may have, but it didn't even come close. They were unorganized, sure, but the Cerberus remnants were also crazed and reckless thanks to whatever state their brains were left in. Instead of an organized cover and advance formation as was typical on the battlefield with any sentient enemy - not including Geth or Reaper forces - they charged blindly. While that may _seem_ beneficial to Jane and her crew, it was anything but when considering that Cerberus forces employed explosives even before their brains were all the consistency of an egg left to explode in a heating unit.

"Jane," Garrus says, taking the lead. "Get yourself out of there. Sephone, you and I will cover her. Focus on keeping the Atlas's attention. Gypsy? If you have a shot, join me in keeping troops off Jane."

" _Understood."_

An understood rings out from the asari just as the signature distortion of sound signals the beginning of her launched attack. Taking a deep breath, Jane focuses her energy through her body and focuses it into flowing over her spine and down her arms. _Now or never. As in, get your ass out or learn what an Atlas will do with a brain-fried pilot._

Ducking out of cover, she throws a powerful shockwave to stagger the few troopers too close and hears more than sees their bullets whip past her. She has to admit she huffs a breath of a laugh as her feet pound against the metal shuttle pad when she hears the slight grumble of annoyance from their Broker friend for missing a shot thanks to that shockwave, but she keeps it quiet. It's not easy, she knows, to adapt to her tendency to get in the way of a shot or toss one's target out of their scope. Hell, Garrus _still_ gets after her for it even now.

Sephone's cover is closer to her position than her mate's and it's one she aims for. Trying not to slip in the sludge left from the sleet pouring down - _thanks for that, weather that was forecasted for later_ \- Jane dodges a Phantom's blade with a less than graceful jump back that ends in her losing the chance for retaliation thanks to her boot slipping on the slick metal. She does, however, manage to block the blade swinging for her head with her weapon just before the Cerberus woman's head explodes into a spray of crimson.

"Thank god I'm in full armor," she says more to herself as she shoves the falling body out of the way and closing the distance between herself and the shuttle Sephone fires from her cover behind. Sliding her ass over the lower front end of the sleeker shuttle, Jane drops into a crouch as soon as her feet hit steel. Nodding at the silent question of 'all good' from her new cover buddy, she glances back over to the Atlas still in the relatively same position. If there was one good thing about those massive mechs, it was that they were slow to turn and change course.

"That bastard is at the edge of the platforms." Jane pats the woman beside her and motions to switch places in order to get the closer position. "See if you can force it off." Should they succeed, she knows they will either destroy the

"It will be my pleasure," Sephone responds with a hint of delight and Jane is sure she's grinning at the chance to show off her beloved launcher. Quickly changing places, the woman begins her fire and rapid reload routine with sole focus on the mech as Jane covers her against those Cerberus troops fanning out to seek out the grenadier's position.

Rounding the opposite end of the shuttle, Jane yanks a trooper into the air as he preps a grenade up ahead with a pull and forces him to drop the active explosive. It falls to the feet of two more soldiers and they are so crazed they don't even notice or run when it counts down. When it explodes, it sends the two not supported by her biotics flying as the weightless trooper merely falls, motionless,to the slick ground. One of the limp and tattered bodies hits the Atlas and causes it to stumble, giving Jane's team an opening.

Team working like a well-oiled machine and without needing direction, they attack. A grenade flies from the women's shared position and explodes against the front of the mech, sending it back and closer to the ledge of the shuttle pad while shattering its cockpit shielding. Before the pilot can regain control of the unsteady machine, one of the snipers fires, playing a magic trick with the Cerberus pilot's helmeted skull. Jane is the last to move, rolling out of her cover and closer to the precariously balanced Atlas to throw a shockwave, tossing off any poor bastards too close to the edge off and the top heavy mech behind them.

She can't see the drop from this distance, but she does hear the heavy crash of the Atlas as it breaks through the trees below. The drop has to be at least ten meters and, while there is a ladder further down the platform, Jane doubts there is anyone left alive under than Atlas. At least, she hopes not both for her team's benefit as well as the Cerberus troops. Assholes or not, they don't deserve a slow death from all the possible factors while trapped under that massive mech.

" _Perimeter clear_."

Jane nods, knowing the agent can see her from their position, and nudges a body over with her foot. Squatting down, she starts to search the man at her feet for heat sinks and credits. It's not the honorable thing to do, to scavenge the dead no matter their allegiance, but it's not like the Normandy is overflowing with supplies no matter how much credits the Council likes to believe they're paying. Even if Jane and her people were drowning in credits, there isn't necessarily a big enough supply for the demand in the crater of a galaxy the Reapers left behind.

"Gypsy, make your way to us," she says through the comm as she pockets a decent amount of credits before moving on and hears the affirmative in response. "Sephone and Garrus, take whatever useful shit you can find."

"Be mindful of survivors," Garrus warns as he closes the distance from his perch and the actual field of dropped Cerberus troops. "Just because they're down doesn't mean they're actually dead."

She hears Sephone's answer and nods absently, attention on unstrapping a grenade belt without activating any possible triggers. Her paranoia proves unneeded as the belt stays inactive as she yanks the thing out from under the body with a sharp kick to the dead weight. "Got ourselves some nice grenades. Not meant for a launcher, though James will love 'em." She chuckles and stands up, looking out towards the trees on the edge of the perimeter where the mech collapsed.

Standing in the trees are communication towers, them and the shuttle platforms the only parts of the Cerberus facility above ground. It's a smart plan to keep both the weather and prying eyes from whatever is going on down there - Reaper studies, apparently - and, while she sees every reason to want that data, Jane is more than happy that Feron sent for a more stealthy approach. Something just tells her that blasting their way into a hive of disoriented and crazed bees wouldn't have turned out so well.

Movement along one of the towers proves her guess that the Broker sniper was watching from the sky all along as Jane knows that's where her own mate would have chosen. Off the field, she'd complain about knowing too much about sniper perches and 'optimal visual range' while sure to be in Garrus' hearing range, but in the middle of battle, she would be out of her mind to ever deny the upper hand that sort of knowledge gives her and her crew. Sniper or not, up on one of those towers is where she'd be if given a capable weapon.

"Gypsy. I don't know if you caught it, but there's a ladder leading up from the trees." Jane hands Sephone the grenade belt as she passes and turns to examine another body, a Phantom this time. "Just be careful down with that Atlas. No clue if any Cerberus fucks are down there."

" _Don't worry. I have eyes on them."_

Jane nods though she knows the agent doesn't see it and takes the Phantom's suit core, never knowing if they'll need it or manage to find a way to convert it into a power source for something. Standing up, she turns to see her husband kick over a body and crouch to examine its person. The sleet slicks off his black armor in sheets, the poor turian definitely freezing his proverbial balls off in this weather, but he didn't complain once when the fighting took off. If anything, the cold seemed to have spurred him own, which is possible considering he probably wanted to just get the hell off this shithole.

It's only because she's watching him that she sees the one thing she fears happen as if in slow motion. Eyes widening beneath her visor, she hears his 'Sh-' and watches him lift to his feet at a snail's pace just before the Cerberus body at his feet explodes. A grenade must have been primed with trigger held down in the dead man's hand and the shifting of the body caused the grasp to shift and release the pressure.

She doesn't even hear her own voice as she screams his name or command her body to move as her feet sprint forward. Her stunned eyes watch as her mate is tossed like a child's toy to the ground and slides across the slick and icy platform towards the ledge. Armor crashes to the brightly painted shuttle pad as she drops to a hip, momentum throwing her into a skid as she throws out her hand to grab him, only for her fingers to wrap around nothing but air.

"Fuck! Garrus!" Her screams echo off the trees as she jumps to her feet with a stumble and doesn't even think before leaping after him.


	48. Chapter 48

Garrus

A pained groan escapes his mouth, vibrating in his helmet as his eyes look up into the dark sky through his sleet streaked visor. Breathing hurts, radiating pain from his chest and shooting down his spine, and he's pretty sure the lack of sensation coming from his arm means it took some heavy damage from the fall. Using it most likely saved him worse injuries, maybe even his life, but he knows he's going to need to spend a good amount of time repairing it. At least, he figures, he took the time to read the manuals on both his arm and his wife's legs.

Speaking of, as if thought alone could summon her, he feels a heavy crash of a body that can be none other than Jane here to fall with him. Her landing sends quakes through the mech that had become his landing pad and he groans again at the tremors of pain it sends through the metal and into his body. She hears the sound immediately and, pulling herself out of the roll that took some of the force from the fall off her legs, she curses.

"Shit. Garrus," she says as she scrambles over the Atlas towards him. "I'm sorry."

Her hands seems to hover over him in fear of making matters worse and it's almost comical how out of her depth she looks even without being able to see her face under that helmet. Chuckling a bit, only to hiss in pain throbbing in his chest, he uses his only working hand to wave off her apology. "Just help me up, Jane. I don't know about you, but an Atlas is not all that comfortable."

"You mean I don't need to worry about you replacing our bed?" Remembering what to do, Jane opens her Tool and begins a examination of his condition. "Damn, Vakarian."

"Using our last name? That's never good." He huffs the best he can with the stabbing sensation in his chest to show his humor. "What's the diagnosis? Let me guess. At least a few broken ribs?"

"Lucking guess, ass hole." Closing her Omni-Tool with a sigh, she stands and look up to the ledge above before calling through her comm. "Sephone. Can you see somewhere down here where Cortez can land the shuttle? I don't think Garrus will be climbing any ladders with broken ribs and a fractured vertebrae."

" _Ouch. Sounds painful."_

"Gee. Thanks for the wonderful insight, woman." Jane comes to him and starts to examine his armor, hopefully in attempt to figure out how he's going to move out of this situation. "You really messed yourself up, this time, Garrus," she says with a hint of good nature in her voice, trying to ease the tension from the stabbing agony in wracking his body.

"Blame Cerberus."

Snorting, she nods and looks up, moving to her gun at the sound of cracking branches. She flares blue just before lifting her weapon and demanding, "You better be our sniper in the towers."

"It is me, Shepard." A heavily modulated voice says, but Garrus can't see them come out of the trees at his position. "I meant to create noise so you would not suspect me of trying to corner you. Is your mate alright?"

"Yes and no. Come over here and help me move him. We need to find a clearing for the shuttle." Her helmet looks to him as he sighs in exasperation over the situation he's found himself in. "Preferably not one that's kilometers out."

Footsteps approach and a figure crouches beside him. From the modulator in their helmet, Garrus didn't know if their agent was a male or female, but, this close, he can see that it is, in fact, of a female build. He can't yet tell if he's seeing an asari or human due to the full face helmet that doesn't even give a hint in the eye with it's triangular shaped visor, their limited vision presumably compensated with virtual interfacing. On top of that, she wears a sort of shawl around her neck and head to keep out the chill from her neck and the distorting rain from her sight.

"I know of a location," she says as she turns to his mate. "It is not too far out along this main wall."

"Awesome," Jane deadpans as she crouches down, gingerly rolling Garrus completely onto his pain. He bites his pained vocals, but knows she doesn't need to hear it to feel the way his body tenses as the pain shoots up his spine. "Easy, big guy. We'll take this slow. Gypsy, watch for his arm. I don't think it works."

"Broken?"

His mate snorts as she helps him lift his good arm over her shoulder. "In a way. If it feels like it's coming off, let us know so he doesn't eat shit and bring me down with him."

"That didn't translate-"

"Ah," Gypsy cuts him off, lifting his false arm over her shoulder and, so far, it holds his weight as the two women slowly help him to his feet. "I assume that means it is a prosthetic."

"Yep." Looking up, Jane speaks over the shared comm. "Sephone, find that ladder down and meet up with us. I don't expect trouble, but you never know." Garrus feels her arm settle softly behind his back, the other woman's arm against his upper back as they assist him in climbing down off the wet Atlas. "Last thing we need is to be separated."

" _Understood. I'm heading that way now, so give me a minute."_

They make it off the slick mech before Sephone manages to meet up with them and Garrus nods in assurance that he is able to carry his weight. Gypsy is first to release him while Jane takes an extra second to squeeze his waist through his undersuit before moving away. She still keeps close, but doesn't force her help on him, for which he is grateful.

The last thing he needs is to feel even worse for getting hurt because he wasn't paying attention or anticipating the possibility of a trap, whether the Cerberus soldier intended it in his death throes or not. He was already paying enough with the pain in his back and chest that he doesn't need a hit to his pride too.

"Cortez." Jane calls up the shuttle as the asari drops down from the ladder. "Change of plans. We need to change the LZ."

" _Yes, ma'am. Do you have coordinates?"_

"Negative. We're moving to the location now," she adds with a motion to the Broker agent to lead the way. Garrus stays in the middle of the formation, his condition leading to the fact that he's going to be more a liability than aid should they find trouble. "Stay off the radar and we'll get back to you."

" _Understood. Be careful._ "

"Well, this sucks," Sephone says as she relaxes her weapon in her hands. "We're going to be slow in this mud."

"Try being the one with a broken back and ribs," Garrus deadpans as he grunts from the force he has to use to yank his foot out of the greedy ground as it sucks at his boots. At his side, he sees his mate open her Tool and access his Medi-Gel reserves, sending the soothing substance through his suit. It doesn't have much to do for an internal ailment when it's mostly meant for open wounds, but it does help with the pain. "Thanks."

She nods and looks to Gypsy once done, asking, "So, did you actually manage to get anything from the Cerberus databanks?" The hooded woman looks over and Jane sighs. "Right, you can't tell me because it belongs to the Shadow Broker. Figures."

"You have obviously dealt with the Broker before. I'm not surprised." Her modulated chuckle comes through. "But you are right. I can't just give away information freely. And I, unfortunately, doubt you can pay what the Broker would ask for this."

It's obvious that the woman doesn't know who the Shadow Broker is or their association with them, something that was suspected and now proved. Even though they are on an assumed friendly basis with Liara, the Broker herself, there severe lack of contact with the asari makes Garrus question if they ever will learn of what Gypsy found short of paying credits.

Their trek is slow and, for him, painful when it calls for the exertion that comes with climbing over the fallen trees, each movement sending scalding blades of pain through his body. Even the effort of remaining standing with the collecting icy water underfoot is taking more out of him than the others, quickly draining his energy. He is starting to realize that the more his strength weakens, the more painful his injuries become.

Obviously aware of his condition, Jane stomps a overthrown tree trunk with her boot to lessen its height without directly helping him. "How close to this clearing are we?" she asks of the Broker agent. "I think I'm starting to get water in my boots and I hate wet socks."

He knows what she isn't saying, that he needs to get to the shuttle before the pain gets to be stronger than his will to keep moving, but if Gypsy notices it, she doesn't mention it. "We're closing in. You can start to see the clearing through the trees there." She points up ahead and all three of their helmets look towards the direction, seeing a thinning of the trees.

"Good." Jane's helmet nods before she looks back to check his condition, moving to glance at Sephone's position when he gives a slight nod of his ability to make it the rest of the way. "So, Gypsy." The woman glances over to his wife as Jane continues. "I hope you aren't going to keep the hood and mask on on the Normandy."

She chuckles and shakes her head. "That'd be awfully uncomfortable. I see no reason to remain in armor if the Shadow Broker sent you to find me." Taking both Spectres in, she adds, "Unless I should be more cautious around you and your crew?"

"Nah. The crew is good. The ship may be full of assholes, but we don't care what you look like under that helmet." She chuckles, full of strain as she looks back to him and catches his tense stride. He's sure she's frowning under her helmet, but she doesn't move to help, knowing he stubbornly wants to do this on his own. "By the way. Will we be referring to you as Gypsy the entire time? Because we all know that's code and, while you don't have to be buddy-buddy with anyone, we would rather cut through all the professional bullshit."

"Right," he agrees, his voice rough from pain, but still within range to be properly understood by the translators. "Because we haven't really been the model of 'professionalism' since, well. Never."

Jane snorts. "That's boring anyways."

Gypsy considers the request a moment before they break through the trees and into the clearing. Turning to them, she nods. "You may call me." There is a breath of a pause, small enough that it might not be noticed, but one that Garrus catches and one he is sure his mate does as well. "Annie."

Neither mention the fact that they know it's just one more moniker she goes by to keep her true identity hidden. It wouldn't do much but bring up the issue and possibly convince 'Annie' that she's safer with her face hidden and, while that doesn't bother Garrus in the slightest, the fact that they are agreeable to the voiceless request to accept the given identity will further the trust that she may, too, keep what she sees and hears a secret. While not likely, no one can blame Garrus for having a sense of optimism in his moment of intense pain.

With Sephone closing up the rear as she steps out into the clearing, Jane opens her comm channel and requests a pick up, sending in their coordinates. Cortez must be close as Garrus is barely given the chance to administer another Medi-Gel dose before they hear the shuttle's thrusters approaching.

"Normandy, come in."

" _We hear you, Shepard. How's the weather?"_

"It's good, Joker. I'm thinking of giving the crew shore leave here." A slight groan comes over the comm as she walks to Garrus' side and takes his hand in hers to squeeze. "We need you to alert Sidonis to get his ass to the MedBay."

" _Got hurt again? When will you learn you're_ _ **not**_ _supposed to catch the bullets with your body?"_

"As soon as they stop feeling so damn good," she deadpans in response, looking up to the shuttle circling before starting its descent. "We'll be up soon."

Before Cortez has the shuttle completely down, they are moving. Annie is first up, offering a hand to help. Taking a deep breath, or as deep as he can manage with his broken ribs Garrus takes it and uses his other to push off his wife's shoulder. His vocals keen at the sudden agony the step up shoots through his spine, but he's up with Jane and Sephone following.

Without even directing his legs to move, he finds himself seated on the far bench, hands clenched on his knees tight enough to hear his gloves creak. Even after the exertion, his body screams for a relief the Medi-Gel is doing little to ease. All he can hope for is that Sidonis can do at least one thing right and get his injures properly tended to.

Jane sits beside him and pulls off her helmet with an exhausted sigh, rolling her feet. Whatever damage she took to the prosthetics from the fall, he's sure it's not as bad as his own damage because they are still functional. Unlike his mate that most likely rolled to limit the force put on them, he didn't have such an option and put his full weight, which probably saved him greater injuries.

"What a hell of a mission," she says softly and he nods in agreement, leaving his own helmet on for the time being because he'd rather she not see the look on his face from the pounding ache in his bones. Opening her tool, she types out a message. "I'm getting James to start cooking. We deserve a damn home-cooked meal."

"Must be nice," he jokes with a knock of his knuckles to her thigh guard. "Looks like it's grade-A rations." Shrugging, he chuckles slightly when she quirks a smirk. "At least it's the good rations."

"I'm sure one of the others will start to cook food eventually. Unless Aelia and Lantar _really_ like ration packs."

"You never know." Shifting his feet closer to give Annie room to sit across from the two of them, he rumbles in question as she pushes down her hood. "We are heading to the Ascension. Will you be able to disembark there?"

She is quiet a moment as she pops the seals of her helmet, pulling it off and revealing her face. She is an older human female with just hints of wrinkles along her eyes and mouth framed by a light hair The color of sand peppered with silver. What really draws the eye, however, is the large eye patch over her right eye that extends from brow to mid cheek. The fact that such an injury hasn't impeded on her ability to snipe is a testament to her skill.

"Yes," Annie says in answer to his question, setting her helmet against her thigh. "That will be fine. I can set up a transport from there to my next destination with my contact." She gives them a soft half smile. "And I don't think I properly thanked you for getting me out of there."

Jane shrugs and waves it off, crossing her arms. "Don't mention it. Anybody giving it to Cerberus is a friend of ours."

Annie chuckles and nods as the shuttle slows, entering the Cargo Bay. Garrus can feel the thump of the landing through his boots and takes a deep breath of preparation for the shattering of his already tenuous calm. Taking Jane's offer for a hand up as she stands, he also grabs the metal strut of the wall separating the cockpit and troops' compartment to pull himself up.

The step down from the shuttle is less than pleasant, but quickly over as the five of them, pilot and ground crew, head for the lift. Knowing Cortez, he'll want to help cook with James and ensure the man doesn't just make whatever egg dish he insists can constitute every meal. Garrus can't even remember what that dish is called because he never could pull himself into thinking some lumpy yellow stuff was anything close to delicious as James claimed.

"Garrus and I are going to check in with our medic to see about this one," she motions Garrus with a jerk of her thumb, "is any good to me now." She chuckles at his huff of mock insult and shifts on her feet, wincing slightly. _So she managed to get hurt, as well. Looks like neither of us came out unscathed._ "I also need to see if I fucked up my legs falling from that height. Annie, you follow Sephone, she'll show you to the showers or Mess. You're free to join us all for dinner."

The woman smiles. "It's been a while since I've had a good meal, even by ship standards. You can count on me joining."

Nodding in understanding, Jane motions to Cortez to lead the way as she addresses the rest of them. "Good work out there. Sephone, that launcher is a damn beast and Annie, we appreciate the backup. Hell of a shot." She then steps out of the lift and walks beside the Broker agent, Garrus on her other side. "I'm also impressed you didn't pitch a damn fit about me getting in the way like someone over here," she adds with a smirk and motion to him.

"Jane, even Wrex would think twice about your methods of combat."

Releasing a short snort through her lips, his wife shrugs. "Please. He takes lessons from me. Don't you remember fighting in that car lot?"

As they round the corner into the main area of the Crew Deck, Arcanus turns to address their arrival. However, instead of getting a run down of the Normandy's activities in their absence, their second in command draws his weapon with a flash of light hitting the metal and aims at Annie. His growl is almost inaudible, well below the humans' or asari's range, but Garrus hears well enough the anger the man is trying to withhold.

Annie smiles, a hint of something that looks an awful lot like sadness in the expression, and speaks with a softness that contradicts the irritation from the other turian. "Hello, Arcanus."


	49. Chapter 49

Jane

"Hello, _Elizabeth_ ," Arcanus responds curtly, mandibles flicking in agitation without lowering his weapon. " _If_ that is even your true name."

Annie - _Elizabeth? False names are so fucking confusing_ \- frowns slightly and dips her eye to the floor before looking back up to the older turian. Reguix's rumbling vocals are terse and jagged, something Garrus understands and feeds off with a growl shift of focus to the older woman. Sephone, on the other hand, is long gone, obviously figuring they have the situation handled with three against one, injured as they are.

Releasing a long breath, Arcanus lowers his weapon and narrows his eyes at the brown haired woman. Whatever is between these two, it's more than simple hate. No, this is something much deeper. Deep in a way that gives Jane the suspicion that the pair's history tangles at one point that then lead to a spiral of resulting circumstances in their lives.

Still, there is a serious need of breaking this trance of two turians feeding off of the other and zeroed in on the Broker agent. It looks like that task falls to Jane and she clears her throat audibly, breaking through the thick, pressurized air. "Well, it looks like you two know each other. Awesome," she deadpans, looking to Reguix with a question on her tongue. _Will this be a problem?_

As if no longer having any knowledge of the woman, Arcanus crosses his arms behind the small of his back and focuses all attention to Jane. With a nod of affirmative, he turns and heads to his cabin to sequester himself off to deal with whatever the hell this all it. While she knows it will not affect his work nor be a problem, he is her friend and whatever has happened between them is concerning and definitely something that had an impact on him. Only once had she ever seen him break his calm and show his anger and it was for a man he considered a brother.

She's almost weary of figuring out _this_ puzzle. One thing, however, that she is sure of is that she will definitely be keeping an even bigger eye on this Shadow Broker spy.

Blowing out her breath through her lips, she glances to Annie, or Elizabeth, and lifts a brow. "So… Which would you like us to call you?"

"Annie is still okay." Her eyes have never left where Arcanus has disappeared into his cabin. "I doubt I will be hearing the name 'Elizabeth' any time soon. If ever again." She finally turns to Jane, sadness in her eyes, but not given further notice as she asks, "Is there somewhere I may be able to go to the bathroom and check my injuries? I got a little banged up when my shuttle was shot down."

"Bad?"

She shakes her head. "It's nothing. I didn't even see the need for Medi-Gel. Bruises and scrapes mostly. Maybe a sprained wrist."

Jane nods and looks to Garrus. "Can you go on ahead? I'm going to show her to the Women's Showers and then I'll be right there."

Sighing heavily, he gives the woman one last glance- his expression unreadable beneath the mask- before turning to the MedBay. She can tell he's less than happy to have to go alone while leaving her with someone he _clearly_ dislikes, but he needs his wounds to be checked immediately to limit how long he'll be laid out recovering. Considering the way he viewed Arcanus in the beginning, she's happily surprised that he's referring so adamantly to the older turian where Annie is concerned.

She shakes her head at his slow, hesitant steps - the pain fucking bad if he isn't doing that swagger of his to keep up the 'look' of health - and frowns before looking to the other woman, pointedly ignoring her all-seeing eye. Last thing she wants is a heart-to-heart with a woman that apparently has her other male turian problems.

"Ready?" Without waiting for an answer, she heads for the facilities.

"Don't you need to check out your own injuries?" Annie asks as she steps in time, stepping into the bathrooms first and moving to the sink first.

Jane shrugs and crosses her arms. "I won't lie to you, I want eyes on you, even in the shitter. You're a spy, no matter if you're being paid or not, so I want to be sure you aren't finding anything _interesting_ enough to sell."

"I understand," she says softly, removing her gloves and laying them neatly on the side of the sink. "It's a smart decision. I wouldn't have expected you to let me walk the Normandy alone given my reputation."

Jane snorts and lifts a brow to the reflection, seeing the woman's blue eye look up and catch it. "Plus, I don't want to leave you and Arcanus alone. I'm not sure you're going to try to kill each other," she narrows her eyes slightly and decides to play on a suspicion, "or fuck."

Annie must be another notch on Jane's belt of people she's surprised with her crassness as the older woman looks back in confusion before the statement sinks in. Jane can tell when that is by the saddened look returning and expanding across the woman's face. "We have… history. But I don't think you need to worry about either of those happening." She turns off the water and looks at herself in the mirror. "I wouldn't put up a fight with him should he decide he wants my life for what I've done."

Not knowing what else to say to that, Jane takes it as enough to make sure there won't be a problem on her ship - Arcanus isn't one to hesitate and second-guess his decisions - and leans on the wall, letting Annie head to the first aid kit. "Well, history or not, you're still welcome to share dinner with the whole ground team."

Annie removes the pressure bandages from the kit and removes her gauntlet. "I appreciate that." A hint of a warm smile flickers over her lips before she turns her complete focus to tending to her wrist. "I apologize if this doesn't seem like my place to talk, but I noticed the deep connection between you and your mate."

 _That's fishing if I've ever heard it_. "Yeah? And your point?"

"I am surprised to see you and him continuing to fight even after the war. I would think the two of you, of all people, would have settled down considering you also have a child." Jane takes a moment of confusion at that before she remembers that the woman is most likely hinting at the media coverage from her trials on Earth. At least, that's what she hopes and not just a game the woman is playing to collect information Jane doesn't even know she's revealing to the older woman.

"You'd think, but you'd be out of your damn mind where the Council and Alliance are concerned." Scoffing, Jane drops her arms and begins to walk to the mirrors. "We tried everything, but it only bought us a small moment of peace. We fought the fucking war, lead the way for the entire galaxy, but it's not enough." She leans on the sink and scowls at the mirror. "It's never enough."

In a gesture of understanding, Annie nods and her voice is soft as she speaks. "I understand that more than you think." Seeing Jane's raised brow reflected in the mirror, she continues. "I didn't start out working for the Broker. I was with the Alliance. N-7, even."

"Not surprising after what I saw down there. Even with one eye and no knowledge of our battle tactics, you kept up with us and worked with Garrus on clearing the field before they got too close with those fucking suicide charges." She turns around and leans back on the sink. "Let me guess, this has something to do with the beef Arcanus has with you?"

Annie nods and closes the kit, standing to replace it on the wall. "Yes." Sighing, she drops her head, hand dropping from the kit once it's secured beside the sinks. "I don't usually admit to making mistakes because any mistake could cost me my life, but the one involving Arcanus is my biggest regret."

Understanding hits easily enough for Jane and she tilts her head slightly to look up at the woman's face. "You loved him."

The blue eye blinks and looks to her in confusion before smiling softly. "I didn't expect it to be so obvious after all these years."

Jane shrugs. "Arcanus doesn't usually pull a gun on people and, when he does, he doesn't drop it unless he is dead, or his target is."

"You've worked with him for awhile, I see," Annie says with a considering look at her things piled together and ready to be returned to their place on her person. "Can I offer a bit of knowledge of what I've learned over the years?" Jane makes a gesture with her hand in 'go ahead'. "When I was with the Alliance, it was shortly after the First Contact War. There was a peace initiative proposed by the Council where the Hierarchy and Alliance would have members of the other species 'observe'. Nothing that could weaken or reveal sensitive information, but something to help the two see what made the other more human, so to speak."

"I think I remember hearing about that in a recording of an interview with Anderson," Jane says, thinking more to herself than revealing a particular bit of history. "Something about spending time training in a sort of turian bootcamp?"

"I remember that being an option, yes."

"I take it you had a different option."

Annie nods and starts to replace her removed pieces of armor. "I was serving with Arcanus and his squad under the guise of seeing how the handle problems with slavers on the edges of Council space-"

"But you aren't a spy without training," Jane fills in, narrowing her eyes in suspicion of the woman. She knows she won't get what was so important that she betrayed a man she claims to love even still and it makes her question the truth of this story, but, so far, Annie is merely talking. Jane will let her for now, keeping an eye out for any payout such deception will grant the other woman. "You got information and you did something to piss Arcanus off."

"My actions lead to the deaths of every member of his squad but him, of which he was laid with the entirely of the blame and suspicion." Frowning, Annie takes a long, steadying breath before looking to Jane, turning to face her. "My stupid decision to choose the Alliance over myself has haunted me for the entirety of my life. It is the one thing I wish, above all else, to be able to remedy or have done completely different."

Jane crosses her arms and drums her fingers on her armor. "I fail to see your point. You're telling me to choose Garrus over any work, but it's not that easy. I don't have some key to unleashing the skeletons in the Council's closet. I've already told the Alliance where to shove it and having the Primarch on our side ensures Garrus is in the clear, but the Council has leverage. I can't just walk away. We have no ammunition against them."

"That's actually not true." At Annie's statement, Jane looks up with a raised brow. "You united the entire galaxy and you have friends in high places. And not just the Primarch. You cured the Genophage, giving the krogan something that will help them regrow as a people. You brokered a peace between the two species, something no one has done in over a thousand years and you even ended a three hundred year long exile for the quarian people. Not to mention the individuals that have fought by your side." She smiles and chuckles. "You have more help than you think, Shepard."

Still, that doesn't feel like enough when the alternative is putting her children in danger. Standing up from the sinks, Jane nods in silent consideration before heading for the door. "Are you ready to head out and see what Cortez and Vega cooked up? I need to check on my turian before I'll join."

Annie nods and follows and, as the round the corner, there stands the very man that so recently raised a gun to the Shadow Broker spy. "Shepard. I have been needing to speak with you concerning… her presence on the Normandy."

The woman in question frowns and crosses her hands behind her back, lifting her chin. _So she caught on to turian language in her time working with them_. _Good to know_. "I will follow whatever rules you give me," she says as she looks between Arcanus and Jane. "I am not here to cause any trouble. Not after you extracted me with so little notice."

He nods as Jane looks around the Mess where everyone is coming together to eat the first real meal in a long while. From where she stands, she thinks she sees spaghetti, salad, and breadsticks being handed out and she can't agree more with the Cargo Bay's boys' choice for first meal.

"Vega!" she calls, seeing him perk up from where he serves food, and motions Annie. "Come here. I got a job for you."

He comes without hesitation and smiles, nodding in hello to the newest guest before looking back. "What can I do for you, Lola?"

"I need you to show Annie around," she says, a look in her eye saying what she really needs, a babysitter to keep their eye on the Broker spy.

Say what you want about him, but he's smarter than he lets on and gets her signal immediately, turning to the older woman. "Alright, Oakley. Let's get you some grub!"

Jane just hears Annie's question of the nickname before turning to the male turian and motioning to follow her to the MedBay. She's pretty sure Garrus will want to hear what their friend has to say after the wordless agreement they had back in the beginning. Her mate looks up from where Sidonis is showing him some sort of wrap or brace and turns away to meet them, his limp arm removed and laid on the bed out of his way.

"You going to live?" she asks with a smirk and he rumbles, nodding. Normally, he'd return the jab, but he looks between herself and Arcanus in question. "Right. Jokes for later." She turns attention to the older male. "I sort of know what her side is, but I want to know if you're cool with this?"

"I… I do not know, Shepard." She's never seen him like this, so confused and seemingly disoriented. It only cements her belief that whatever was between them, it was more than a simple fling. "The past is not my concern, but I do not know how to proceed. I cannot determine what is true and what is falsehood where she is concerned."

"I get you." She looks to Garrus for any of his own opinions. "But you _are_ the only one who knows her more than everyone else. If you think she's a liability or trouble, we support you a hundred percent. Hell, we will back you even if you decide we should give her the benefit of the doubt."

Clicking his mandibles in thought, he looks through the one-way mirror. "I don't know the entire situation because I've been in here, but I think we need to make sure one of the crew is always watching her. She can't be trusted. Espionage is way of life."

"Indeed," Arcanus agrees and looks out to the building mass of crew ready for food. "I will create a schedule of our most trusted crew to monitor her in shifts." Turning from them, he glances over his shoulder with a low purr. "Thank you."

Both nod, giving him leave, and they wait until he is gone and the doors closed at his back before turning to Lantar who has, up until now, tried his best to disappear into the MedBay walls. She still feels bad for the poor guy, her mate still tense and edgy around him, but she has make sure her pity doesn't make things worse. The last thing she believes Sidonis needs is someone feeling sorry for the result of a punishment he has admitted repeatedly to deserving. There was even that moment when Jane herself wanted to strangle him or toss him off the ledge when she first met him, so she can't completely claim innocence.

Still, she trusts his medical work. Limited knowledge or not, he's proved himself capable of keeping them from falling apart thus far. That, in and of itself, is a feat considering just how bad of patients she and Garrus are alone. There's no telling how reluctant for medical aid the rest of their band of misfits is.

"I sure hope you know what we can do to get our big, lovable turian back on his feet?" she says with a smirk and leans her hip on the closest bed, hearing Garrus huff an unamused snort at the statement. _Grouchy turian._

Lantar flutters his mandibles in slight embarrassment before nodding. "Unfortunately, there's nothing to be done for broken ribs. Any bandaging will only restrict the expansion of his chest, so all we can do is wait." He looks to Garrus and rumbles softly. "You just need to remember to breath deeply so you don't get pneumonia."

"And that thing?" She motions the brace in his hands and his lifts it for her to take a look at.

"We don't have any turian equipment, but the pilot's condition means we have plenty of human supplies." Raising a brow in silent question of how that helps them, she is answered when he gently takes the brace back. "Luckily, turians don't have so much plating where the injury is, so we can cinch the brace to offer support."

"How long will I have to wear that damn thing?" Garrus growls and eyes the medical belt with disdain. "I need to be ready for anything that's thrown at us, not laid out."

"Garrus, you cracked your _spine_ ," Lantar says softly, frowning. _He still cares for Garrus._

"I don't _care,_ Sidonis. Just answer me."

Stepping up, Jane takes her mate's hand in silent reprimand to be nice as the younger turian fidgets with the brace. "I think… At least through the trip to the Citadel? I'm not completely sure of an estimate."

"You were just going to scan him after that time and go from there," Jane supplies and he nods while Garrus sighs in frustration, wincing slightly at the pain in his ribs. "Sidonis, do you need help up here?"

His half mandibles flap once in consideration before he nods. "Yes. I may know some things, but we really need a real doctor. If something really serious comes up, I won't be able to do anything about it." Starting to pace, he hums and thinks, stopping and turning to them with an idea. "What about your previous doctor? Chackwas?"

"Chakwas," she corrects. "I don't know if she's available. She works for the Alliance and, well, they're preparing for a war. And I have no clue where Michel is. Maybe helping with refugees somewhere." Motioning her husband to go to the man and hurry up with getting that damn brace, she drums her fingers on the table beside her. "But Chakwas might know someone. We'll contact her later tonight when it's not the middle of the night on Earth."

"I'd really like that," the male says as he tries not to impose on Garrus while he removes the armor along his torso. With Jane stepping forward to help when her husband bites back a hiss of pain, the armor comes off quickly and the medic gets to work, wrapping the support brace around her mate's waist. "That should do it. Try to keep it on as much as you can and it'll help with the healing."

He barely gets a rumble of acknowledgment from Garrus before the bigger male starts to collect his equipment and arm. Jane shakes her head at his moodiness, definitely the result of so many stresses of today piled up, and looks to Sidonis, giving a nod in thanks. "Wrap everything up in here and join the rest of us for dinner. I can't say what was made for the turians of the crew, but the rations are better now."

She actually gets a smile and purr of thanks before she turns to catch up with her husband. Unfortunately, their own dinner will have to wait for a bit longer as they head up to the cabin to tend to their children in private thanks to the fact that they have a possible leak of information in the form of the mysterious Shadow Broker spy.

Leave her assuming they only have one human child instead of two hybrids. Jane would rather let Annie believe the Vakarians are merely cautious over an imaginary baby than the actual truth of their twins.


	50. Chapter 50

Jane

Jane starts tossing off her armor the moment she passes the threshold of the Loft's entrance. Sighing as it feels like the weight of Sanctum itself falls off her shoulders, she closes her eyes and lets her head fall back with a heavy breath. "Fuck… That feels good." Her mate grunts in response and she looks over to see him removing his arm guards with stiff movements. Frowning at his condition, she goes to him and swats at his hands. "Let me."

"At least the twins are asleep. Don't know how much help I'll be when it comes time to change their diapers or bathe them with my arm out of commision." He takes a breath when his chest and back piece come off, but immediately winces with a hiss. "Damn. As if the back brace isn't bad enough."

"I think it's cute." He gives her an indignant look at she snorts, unable to take him seriously in such a pathetic state. She really does feel bad for his condition and can't help feel responsible for not expecting Cerberus traps even after their deaths. "Hey," she says with a smile and cups his cheek. "It's only for a few days, yeah? We'll get through it." She shrugs and lays down the last of his armor on the table of the lounge. "And, who knows, maybe I can work on your arm for you."

That manages to get a chuckle out of him. "No, thanks. I know how you are with intricate electronics. Anyone who knows you knows to keep you _far_ from any advanced technology." Smiling, he leans down to press his forehead to hers. "There is a reason it was you that took down the Reapers, the most advanced synthetics in the galaxy, after all."

Making a noise with her lips of offense, Jane pats the back of her hand to his suited chest - knowing not to use the normal force of their play with his injuries - and motions the children's room. "Alright, smart ass. Let's check on the two shits before heading down for dinner."

"Who had baby duty while we were gone?"

"Gabby, I believe," she answers as the doors slide open to the soft purrs of two sleeping infants. "They're asleep. That's good," she whispers.

"They've been bathed, too," he adds with a soft tone of his own, going to the crib of their daughter and caressing her head. "We shouldn't wake them just yet."

Jane nods in agreement and steps out while Garrus moves to Damocles. Opening her Tool, she double checks to see that the monitoring system Rym put in is working. With Garrus unable to access his own thanks to the condition of his artificial arm where it's location, she wants to make sure they still have eyes and ears up here should the babies wake for any reason. Now the challenge is stuffing their faces - and 'mingling' with the crew - in record time so they can be ready when Cassia and their son awaken.

She soon hears the hydraulic shush of the doors and her husband's voice as he says, "They _should_ give us some time to eat." He chuckles and comes to her, standing to the side that allows him to take her hand.

Jane nods in agreement before leading him to the Lift and hitting the command for the Crew Deck. "So…"

"So," he mimics, lifting a brow plate at her in question.

"What's your opinion on this Shadow Broker spy, Annie?" He stiffens at that and she, in turn, gives him a quizzical, yet intrigued, look. "I see you have one. And it must be a doozy by that reaction."

His mandibles click as he weighs his words. "I don't have one."

Snorting, she replies with a sing-song "Bullshit," the vowels drawn out as she waggles her free fingers in the air.

"I don't. You were the one that was alone with her."

"I was," she admits with a nod before tugging his hand. "Yet you were the one that reacted so strongly when Arcanus pulled the gun on her. What the hell was _that_ about?"

"Call it returning a favor." When she cocks her hip and raises a brow in expectation for more, he explains, "When Arcanus came on board, he saw Sidonis and asked me about it on a hunch that I was involved. When he found out about our past, he wasn't too thrilled to know the traitor was on the Normandy. He assured me that he'd watch Sidonis carefully for any sign of betrayal-"

"I can't believe you," she cuts off with a sigh and closes her eyes. "You promised you'd give Sidonis a chance."

"And I am," he corrects with a growl, tugging her hand to make her open her eyes and look at him. "But I'm also being cautious. There is so much more at stake if he does decide to go back to his old ways."

Jane rubs her forehead before shaking the frustration off. There is no use arguing with him about this while it still remains as civil as she can expect. "Alright. So since Arcanus has your back with him, you are having his back with Annie? What? Feeding off his reactions to her?"

"It's just sort of a natural thing for turians. Since he did so much for us, became so close, we can't really help but to side with each other first and foremost. It's the same with you." He shrugs. "It's hard to explain, but think of it like we're family."

She can't help the smile that curves over her lips and forgetting her intention of reminding him to be impartial due to their position of command on the ship. Chuckling, she squeezes his hand. "I never expected Archangel, scourge of mercs everywhere, would openly admit to feeling like family with _not only_ a former merc, but the _leader_ of one company for a short time." She bumps his shoulder lightly as the elevator slows to a stop. "My big man is growing up so fast." He snorts with a mandible flick similar to an eye roll and steps out onto the Deck, leading her down the short hall and around the divider.

The Mess is bustling and full of the sounds of their ground crew's amiable shouts and laughter. When the two of them come into view, the crew quiets and acknowledges their commanding officers just as James calls out. "Lola! Scars! We were worried we'd all be done before you made it down."

"And I see you all waited for us so wonderfully," she retorts sarcastically and heads over to counter to see if there is any left. "If you fuckers ate it all, there will be hell to pay."

"Then you're lucky you showed up before little miss krogan here ate it all," Sephone yells from the table, motioning a less than amused Rym. The krogan woman wears a scowl that the asari merely smirks at, crossing her arms to lean back in her chair.

"I haven't even finished my first plate-"

"She's racially stereotyping you, young one," Aelia explains, spearing some sort of slab of meat with her turian styled fork. _If that's their rations, I'm impressed. That shit actually looks edible._

Rym looks confused at that, making Jane wonder just how sheltered of a life the female krogan live back on Tuchanka. Snorting softly, the redhead looks back to the counter and food and sees something definitely not the human dish of spaghetti, a salad, and garlic bread.

Someone seems to have prepared a dish of raw meats with heavy spices and some kind of purple mashed potatoes. Of course, that's probably far from what it is, but she's not going to eat it either way. She wouldn't give up her plate of spaghetti for any color of potato-looking food.

Jerking her chin to it in question as she catches her mate's eyes, she sees his mandibles flicker in confusion. Before either of them can ask who took the initiative to cook for the dextro crew, someone clears their throat behind them. Looking back, Jane catches Sidonis' eyes before he drops his head, mandibles jerking shyly.

"Twitch made up something for you guys, Scars," James shouts around a huge bite of bread. "Don't know if it's any good or not." He grins and shrugs before going back to whatever conversation he's having with Bray and Aelia.

She watches her husband's eyes narrow at the food and nudges him, silently willing him to play nice and cut the bullshit out. He'd be insane to let his stubborn hate for the man stop him from having a prepared meal. "Sidonis," she calls out as she spins and heads for the table, letting Garrus decide for himself if his feelings for the younger man are worth eating rations. "I had no idea you cooked!"

"Uh..." He rumbles in embarrassment and rubs his neck. "It's not that fancy of a dinner, just put some stuff together that's better than food packs."

Aelia snorts. "More than I can do," she takes a drink of her thin, yellowish liquid. "I'm a heat it up and eat it sort of turian."

"Why do I have the feeling that's a Victus thing?" Jane asks with a snort and smirk. "Something just tells me your whole bloodline only has heating rations in their repertoire of culinary skills."

"And you'd be right," the woman assures with a smirk of her own, pointing with her fork. "I don't know about my cousin, but my mother was an atrocious cook and my father went straight to delivery whenever he was asked to cook." She shrugs and rumbles in amusement as Garrus joins the group with a plate of the prepared meat dish. _Good. His stubborn pride didn't get the better of his senses._ "Besides, there isn't really a kitchen in any cockpit I've ever been in."

" _Plus,"_ Joker adds over the comms. " _Why cook when you can get others to do it?"_

Aelia nods in agreement as Bray snorts. "This is what humans call food?" He lets some leafy greens fall off his fork. "More of this shit gets stuck in my teeth than I get down. And whatever I manage to eat doesn't even have flavor beyond whatever this oily stuff is."

"It's a _salad_ , pendejo," Vega says with an exasperated eye roll. "And don't you be insulting Esteban's dressing." He shoves a forkful of the dish in question in his mouth. "Ifs dam' goof!"

"Uh huh." The man seems entirely unconvinced and lets Sephone jerk his salad plate over to her side of the table.

"I think this is the best meal I've had in a long time," Annie pipes up, drawing attention to their newest guest on the Normandy. She smiles and nods to James and Steve before chuckling. "Although, I'm sure even what you've made would be good, Sidonis," she adds with a warm smile to the turian desperately trying to melt into his seat to avoid any sort of attention, good or- in the case with Garrus- bad.

"You're welcome," he whispers and nods lightly as Arcanus glances between him and Annie, his eyes never straying too far from his pinned target even if she pretends to not notice.

The tension between the two separate pairs doesn't go unnoticed by the others and numerous eyes can't seem to decide which to watch. Should they focus on the older pair where one stares at the other as she tries to brush the past off or the younger males where one tries to avoid breaking the thin layer of peace with another that just refuses to acknowledge his presence. Just as Jane is about to rip some insolent turian asses a new one and shove her foot in the resulting hole, Sephone whistles loud as Bray laughs and Aelia shakes her head in what must be amusement at the males' show. Everyone else seems too intent on watching for a possible blowout.

"So, _Annie_ ," Jane says with a tone that wordlessly warns the testosterone fueled males to back down or there'll be a tiny redheaded weapon of destruction unleashed. "You used to work with the turians before it was cool." She kicks her mate's foot before giving Arcanus a scolding look.

"Why, yes." The woman, bless her, gets the attempt to change the atmosphere and nods. Some of the crew now attracted to more than the elephants in the Mess look to her for more, some actually showing legitimate interest.

"Damn," James says, setting his empty beer bottle down. "You gotta tell us some stories."

"Yes, please do." Arcanus nearly growls his loaded statement and Jane sighs, wondering if her foot would reach far enough to kick the man seated diagonally from her position. "I am sure we would all find your tales to be enlightening." He grunts and turns a snarl at Jane as when her foot connects with his shin, but she ignores it along with their Broker guest.

"Well," Annie starts before looking to the others at the table. "It was pretty much the same as any other posting with a squad." She chuckles and looks off in remembrance. "Although, the translators weren't as good back then as they are now. Why, I remember one particularly awkward situation I got myself in thanks to my turian not being really good."

In a move Jane never would have expected, Arcanus seems to relax a small fraction and his shoulders loosen. He must know this story as he finally breaks his predatory stare and looks to his plate, taking his first bite. Nodding in thanks to the man for letting the past be the past at least in front of the rest of the crew, she turns to Annie just as she finishes up explaining how translators worked directly after the war.

"So, here I am trying to find the bathrooms and I _think_ I find it," she regales with a big grin and spreading her hands. "Only to walk into a shower filled with what _had_ to be the entire turian military in the showers!"

A few of the crew groan at the thought, which only fuels the laughter from those not at all bothered. Jane is among the loudest of them, jostling the woman beside her with a smirk. "Damn! I know _way_ too many pornos with that very premise!" She sighs in exasperation. "And you didn't get pictures?!"

Annie chuckles at that with a shrug as Reguix shakes his head, flicking a mandible with a soft twinkle of a gold ring. "I can't believe you remembered that."

"How could I not remember seeing you and half the squad naked?" the older woman says coyly.

Jane snorts and leans back in her seat, picturing the possibilities. "Fuck me… Now I need to think up a way to get the Normandy's turians in a unisex shower. Lathering each other. Maybe some kissing-"

"So happy to be included in this fantasy," Aelia deadpans. "With a bunch of rutting males, no less."

"Think about those of us having to picture it," Rym grunts, covering her head with her hands as she shakes off the thought.

Sephone snorts. "I'll admit, that'd be a hell of a sight."

James wholeheartedly disagrees if his rapidly shaking head and wide eyes is anything to go by, but Jane can't help continue. "Don't mention it, Aelia. How could I leave you out?" Smirking, she looks at her mate's raised brow. "What?"

"I'm not enough? I'm hurt."

Barking a laugh, she swats him on the back. " _You'd_ be there too, you bastard. Just think about it. Aelia's hips, Arcanus' legs, that ass of Sidonis'," she makes a growling noise and shivers as she sees the turians in question react. Aelia smirks in pride, Sidonis trills in surprise with wide eyes, and Arcanus plays deaf while eating "There are just too many things to oogle at, I can't even point them all out."

"I notice you hadn't pointed anything you'd 'oogle' on me," her husband responds with a raised brow and she playfully waves it off.

"You just want your ego to be fed. You _know_ what I _like_." A knowing smirk flutters over her lips and he snorts.

"One problem," Bray cuts in with a knowing smirk. "If I know anything about turians, it's that they're notoriously possessive when they bond." Snorting, he waves a hand at Garrus before crossing his arms. " _That_ one even more so."

Sephone snorts and smirks. "So no pornos for you, Shepard."

"Damn," she says dejectedly, getting a mock growl in reprimand. The fact that he knows her well enough that this situation would never go past fantasy and light hearted banter is something she loves him dearly for. Besides, it's not like she hasn't seen nude turians on vids or these very crew members stripping down to get in their undersuits. Joking is just so much better than the tense environment they walked into when they came down.

"See, that's the good thing about never intending to bond." Victus motions the married couple with a twirl of her fork as she leans her elbow on the table. "It's better not to be mated because I get to avoid all that… mess with males."

"There are always females," the asari at the table retorts and the female turian flicks a piece of her food at her. "What? It's a possibility."

"Been there, done that. Too much drama." The co-pilot snorts and flicks her mandibles in a turian eye roll. "I'll stick with my flying."

" _Speaking of which,_ " Joker cuts in again, his voice searching. " _When is someone going to, you know, bring_ _ **me**_ _some?"_

"Alright, alright!" Aelia clicks her mandibles and mutters something as she stands, taking her plate. "I told you to drift it in auto while you ate!"

" _And leave my nice, comfy seat?"_ A snort echoes over the intercom as the crew starts to stand to clear their places. " _Not a chance."_

The female turian closes her eyes to hold back her irritation before shaking it off and walking to the sink. Rym gives a nod in parting before practically rushing back to the MedBay to continue her work the moment her plate hits the cleaning unit. Bray nudges Sephone to join him as he starts to question her on her weapon and its modifications, the two disappearing around the corner to the Lift.

"Come on, Esteban." Vega waggles his bottle in the air. "I got plenty more of these with our names on them."

Cortez chuckles and nods his head at the offer, standing with his plate. "It was great to have a huge meal with the crew again, Shepard," he says with a smile before looking to Annie. "And it was nice to meet you."

"You as well," she agrees with a warm smile of her own.

Lantar, the poor guy, flaps his mandibles as his eyes watch the two walk away, as if in plea to the universe for a relief. Glancing at his lap, he rubs his neck and stumbles for an excuse. "I, uh… I should…"

Jane, seeing his need to get out from under the scrutiny of her mate's eyes, speaks up, jerking her head to the MedBay. "Try to contact Dr Chakwas or Dr Michel. See if you can get them to release the files on the crew and maybe if they want to rejoin the crew." She smiles in reassurance as his eyes lift to her. "I'd go through the Ascension first, see if the doctors are helping refugees. It'd be better than trying the Alliance first. Use our Spectre clearance if you need to."

"Right," he acknowledges with a rapid nod of his head, jerking up to his feet and heading for the kitchenette with his plate. "I'll get right on that, Shepard."

As soon as the MedBay doors slide shut, Jane turns her green eyes to her mate. "You should give the man a fucking break. He's trying."

"He has committed one of the worst crimes for our people," Arcanus intercepts, Garrus nodding in agreement, and she sighs at the double meaning to that.

"Shove your 'our people's honor' shit up your scaly asses. Sidonis is paying for what he did every day he looks in the mirror-"

"As he should."

She elbows her mate for interrupting and ignores his soft growl. "I don't give two fucks. He is a part of the crew. You _will_ be civil. _Both_ of you." She jerks up a finger to Arcanus. "I know your deal. Cut it out."

"I will not," he says plainly and Garrus speaks up, looking to Jane.

"Jane. I have done as you asked and kept my feelings to myself. I have not resorted to violence with him, but you cannot expect us to forget and forgive."

"Wrong. I expect you to move past it." The irony of this talk, of the fourth party at their table, isn't lost on her, but perhaps she can use this to her advantage. "I know part of this tension is because Sidonis admitted his feelings for you as why he did what he did, but it's not going to hurt you. You've already turned him down, he will either move past it or he won't, but that's on him, not you." She sighs at the annoyance easing out of her system. "Archangel administered his justice, now it's time to let the man live with it and move on. You don't have to love him back, just give him the chance to redeem himself."

"You ask a lot." Garrus exhales heavily and looks to Arcanus, a silent conversation going on between them. While they do that, Jane gets a chance to glance at Annie and sees a sad smile be returned. Whatever made it through the older man's thick skull will either help to mend whatever can be repaired between them, or it won't. It's all Jane can hope for.

"Just try," Jane finally adds as she gets up. There is nothing more to say and she wouldn't want to dwell on it when they have only a short while before having to go back upstairs. Walking to the sink, she already knows whatever plans she had with Garrus have soured with his mood, but maybe she managed to take a hit so that Arcanus can find some peace in reconciling his past.

Her mate doesn't speak as he puts his plate in the sink, heading for the Lift as she waits up. To anyone, it may seem like a brush off - and it is, in part - but she knows it's just a breath of air he needs to drop the subject. The two of them don't fight often and, when they do, it either boils over in the moment or it cools almost immediately once silence falls. His acceptance of her request is enough to tell her that the issue is dropped. Whether he actually takes the advice or not is irrelevant right now so long as the current situation is halted before they get to a point they have only ever reached in high stress states.

"Arcanus," she says as she glances to see her mate standing within sight with a curious look on his face. "I want you to watch Annie for this shift." Seeing Garrus raise his brow in question to her intent, she looks down to the older turian and adds softly, "Try to listen."

"You ask much," he mimics her mate.

"And you and Garrus need to stop spending so much damn time together." Smiling warmly, she wordlessly asks if he will trust her with the searching look in her eyes. "Good night, Arcanus." She looks to the older woman. "Annie."

She nods in a returned gesture as Reguix rumbles so softly that the redhead barely catches it. "I will tend to the Normandy's matters, Shepard." Looking to Garrus, he adds. "See that those wounds heal properly."

That's the best 'goodnight' they're going to get from him, so Jane heads to her husband and takes his hand. Squeezing in hopes that he's moved past their disagreement, she is pleased to feel him grip back just as her Tool begins to vibrate on her arm.

"Sounds like we're needed upstairs," he says softly with a rumble that rolls into a chuckle.

She checks her Omni-Tool to find that he's correct. "How you know that without your arm, I'll never know."

He snorts and spreads his mandibles while his hand releases hers to flutter in the air. "One of my many talents. See if your fantasy turians can do that."


	51. Chapter 51

Garrus

He’s ready to admit, he is absolutely _not_ suited to this task of bathing their son with only one hand.  The task of wrangling their squirming, kicking, and grabby son unquestionably calls for someone with two.

“Damocles,” he says with a huff as tiny hands, once again, manage to trap his own much larger one in their grip and pull to his son’s mouth.  “This will go much faster if we come to an agreement to work together.”  

“Right,” Jane, who has already bathed and dressed Cassia, says from the doorway of the bathroom.  “Because we can’t let mommy and Cassia think we boys don’t have our shit together.”  She smirks and leans on the doorframe, crossing her arms.  “If you don’t hurry, we’ll be feeding them _lunch_ and changing them _again_ , so this,” she motions Garrus and their son splashing in the sink, “will be redundant.”

Garrus snorts and flicks his mandibles.  “And here I thought you’d already know that speed isn’t everything.”  Her laugh makes Damocles giggle and Garrus smiles with a purr.  

“Alright, alright,” his wife says as she collects herself, coming to his side.  “How about I finish up with him and you go get us something to eat?”  She all but pushes him away from the sink and helps to pull down his sleeve as soon as he dries his hand.  “As fucking hilarious at it will be watching you try to clothe him, we actually have shit to do today.”

“Sure.  Make fun of your armless mate.”  He huff in annoyance as he has to wait to let her slip on his glove.  

“I can’t believe this entire time we’ve been in transit, you couldn’t fix that damn arm of yours.  I thought you were supposed to be a techie,” she adds with a smirk and pat of ‘all done’ on his chest.  

Snorting, he takes a moment to watch her when she moves to bath their son.  Her faces and cooing - of which she adamantly denies doing when questioned - bring a smile to his face and a purr from his chest.  It’s why his voice is soft even though the topic of not having the supplies to fix his limb has been a big of an annoyance as the brace on his back.  

“You’re right.”  When she looks to him with a raised brow of surprise at his admittance, he continues.  “How silly of me not to work on the prosthetic with the parts I _don’t_ have.”

Jane chuckles and smiles, turning to Damocles as she cups water to pour over his shallow cowl and chest.  “Hear that?  You’re daddy’s a smart ass.”  The baby cheers with chittering vocals and both parents laugh softly.  “So if you can’t shit the parts you need - which would have actually saved us credits if you _could_ \- how are you going to get them?”

“Already ahead of you.”  He steps closer to give a nuzzle to her temple before chirping lovingly at his son.  “I asked Harrot to send word to whatever supply vendors he may have connections with on the Ascension to get us the supplies I need.”

“Harrot _has_ those connections?”  She raises a brow and he nods, even though her attention is all on their babbling son.  

“I didn’t ask.”  Garrus shrugs with a rumble.  “He said he can do it, so either he can or we will have to just call it quits and I’ll live with only one arm.”  Stopping on his way out, he smirks over his shoulder, catching her eye.  “On second thought, maybe I should forget fixing the arm.  It’d be the perfect excuse for retirement.”

He gets a snort is response as she flicks the water from her fingers at him.  “Go on.  Get out of here and get us some breakfast.  And you _better_ not get rid of that arm.”  As he heads out of the Cabin, he hears her scream, “Because I’m not taking baby duty while you use the one arm excuse!”  

The doors to the lift close at his back just as he’s sure she yells something else and he chuckles softly, amusement vibrating his chest.  Joking aside, he’d much rather not go without his artificial arm.  He’s spent thirty one years getting used to the real thing and almost a year to get the hang of the mechanical one that he’s damn sure he doesn’t want to continue fumbling one-handed through tasks.   _Even if it means I won’t have an excuse to make Jane do all the dirty diaper changes._

Stepping out onto the Crew Deck, Garrus heads around the corner to the Mess and spots both Arcanus and Annie sitting at the table across from each other, one reading a datapad while the other quietly sips from a steaming mug.  They are the only two up and in the Mess this early, but that’s not all that unusual for the older turian and, given that Arcanus is most likely on watch over the Broker agent, it makes sense that Annie would be up and present as well.  He suspects Annie is not one to take these few quiet moments on the ship for granted.

Upon seeing him, the older woman smiles warmly and lifts her morning drink in greeting.  “Good morning, Garrus.  I hear we’ll be docked with the Ascension within the hour.”

He knows it’s small talk, that she more than heard it - that she _knows_ it - thanks to being in Arcanus’ company, but he nods with a low purr of agreement.  Glancing over to the older man, he watches Arcanus set his datapad down and take a drink from his own steaming beverage.  “Garrus.  I have already contacted the Shadow Broker representative to arrange payment once they receive confirmation of… Annie’s disembark.”

Garrus lifts a brow plate at the pause, but more intriguing is the lessened tension between the two.  If, at first, Arcanus was against Jane’s advice to hear the woman’s reasoning for the past out, it is obvious that the two have at least come to terms that doesn’t involve pointing a gun at the other.  It’s not something that Garrus would have done, but he understands it’s not a decision for him to make.

It isn’t even his place to know what happened.  He could see the pain and anger in his good friend’s eyes the moment they landed on the woman from the past.  That was reason enough to back the other male, explanation or not, but something must have happened between Arcanus and Annie while the Normandy has been in transit that they can now be in the other’s company without Garrus seeing that tense rigidity to Arcanus’ shoulders and mandibles.  

That is good enough for him.  Whether or not he ever learns the events that brought the two older soldiers to such odds is irrelevant.  

“I wanted to thank you and your wife again,” Annie says, calling Garrus from his thoughts and into the reality that he’s been staring at the open cabinet and rows of mugs.  He looks over to the woman and sees the knowing amusement in her eye.  “I know you’re getting paid for it, but it still doesn’t hurt to offer my actual gratitude.”

Humming at the fact that verbal thanks have been far and few between from the very beginning for the Normandy crew, he nods and flicks his mandible as he takes down a large mug for Jane’s tea.  “Don’t mention it.”  He chirps in sarcasm as he adds, “Now, you can show your gratitude by leaving all your copies of our confidential data onboard when you leave.”

That gets a laugh, it’s warmth getting a slight mandible shift of amusement from Arcanus that probably wouldn’t have been noticed by the many that don’t know the man.  Annie sets her mug down and her laughs slow to low chuckles as she nods.  “I assure you, I like you guys too much to do that.”  She shrugs with a smirk and raises her drink to her lips.  “Besides, between all your crew, I don’t think there are very many secrets that don’t involve something elicit.  As fun as it is, I try not to deal with _that_ kind of dirt.”

Garrus shrugs as she sips, setting the mug down to search for the tin of tea bags his wife now drinks instead of coffee ever since her pregnancy.  He doesn’t understand why she didn’t just break the habit of becoming so dependant on a certain drink every morning, but he supposes she didn’t have much to do on Earth during those six months.  Six months that they could have spent enjoying each and every stage of their children’s development together instead of humanity infuriatingly committing the biggest act of stupidity he could think of.  

“Oh.”  Annie stands and comes over, setting her mug on the counter as she grabs a hot water kettle from the burner.  “I made some hot water.”  She taps her finger tips against the bottom and, finding out whatever she was feeling for, smiles.  “It’s still hot.”

Nodding in thanks, he sets the bag in the cup and motions in silent request to pour for him.  “Much appreciated,” he says with a rumble of thanks and heads to the fridge for a serving of sweetened cream.  

“I take it this isn’t for you,” the woman says with a chuckle as she sets the kettle back, watching him pour the cream in and grab a spoon from the drawer.  When he nods at her being right, she smiles.  “I would have never guessed Shepard drinks it.  Coffee practically flows in every Alliance soldier’s veins.”

Garrus chuckles and nods, moving to the cabinets to find breakfast bars.  He and Jane both share the want to take care of meeting with Tali, getting the parts he needs and supplies for the ship, and finding Doctor Chakwas now that they have confirmation of her location onboard the Destiny Ascension.  While a breakfast that’s actually cooked by doing more than boiling water and dropping a packet in to rehydrate it, they would much rather be done with being anywhere near the Council and politicians too busy playing government to get their hands dirty with the real issues in what little remains dangling from threads after the war.  

“Had to switch when I got knocked up!”  Jane’s voice comes around the dividing wall before she even rounds the corner, a smirk on her lips and sway to her uniformed hips.  She gives Arcanus a jerk of her chin in greeting before coming to lean on the counter across from Annie.  “Turns out this asshole can make one hell of a fucking glass of tea,” she says with a jerk of her thumb in Garrus’ direction.  

“You honor me,” he deadpans as he hands her the mug.  He holds up the breakfast bar in question before tossing it into her waiting hand.  “At least it’s better than that chocolate syrup you called coffee.”

“Chocolate syrup?” Annie asks in confusion before rinsing her cup and returning to the table just as Garrus sits beside Arcanus and she takes the seat next to Jane.

Jane is already tearing into her bar, spitting the piece of wrapper onto the table and tearing off a bit.  “Oh yeaff.  Seef.”  She swallows and starts again.  “See.  Coffee tastes like shit - No.   _Worse_ than shit.  I hated the fucking stuff.”  Grumbling, she takes another huge bite, chewing.  “Buff thatf all they haff in de Allianfe!”

“We would all better understand you if you you waited until you swallow your food before speaking,” Arcanus intones with a glance over his datapad.

Washing down her bite with tea, Jane nods with a weighted sigh.  “Fine, fine, dad.”  That gets a rumble of amusement from Garrus, a chuckle from Annie, and a pointed attempt to ignore and continue working from the man in question.  “Anyways,” she continues as she turns back to Annie at her side.  “You know how it was.  It was either shit coffee or… coffee.  The water was absolute crap and mostly available during PT.”

The older woman chuckles and lifts a shoulder, nodding.  “I don’t know if it’s good or bad to hear that the Alliance hasn’t changed much.”

Jane nods as the MedBay doors open and Sidonis steps out, datapad in hand and eyes on whatever information it holds.  Glancing up and catching sight of them, he trills in surprise and makes a sharp turn towards their direction.  The look of his twitching half-mandibles sends heat through Garrus’ blood and the man’s closing proximity clamps his own mandibles tight to his chin.

Archangel may have administered punishment for the crime of betrayal against the team, but the act hasn’t cleared the man in Garrus’ eyes.  How can he truly trust a man that sacrificed those he called friends for an unrequited infatuation?  The fact that Jane has so easily given her understanding and forgetfulness is only soothed by the fact that at least Arcanus shares Garrus’ caution over the younger turian.

“Shepard, Garrus,” Sidonis says as he approaches, offering the datapad.  “I’ve contacted the Doctor and she’s agreed to meet us when we dock.”

Jane nods, mumbling around the last bite of her food before sliding the pad before Garrus to read while his mouth and hand are full with his breakfast.  “Sounds good,” she says after sipping her tea and balling up her wrapper.  “I want you with us.”

Sidonis’ eyes widen and blink rapidly in shock.  “What?  But I-”

“You’ve been treating the crew while she’s been out, so I want you to continue helping her out when she comes back.”  She leans on the table and links her hands together.  “We could definitely use a field medic who knows how to do more than temporarily patch someone up so they don’t die on transit.”

“But… I’m no doctor…” he whispers and she snorts, waving at the group.

“And she’s a spy,” Annie, “He’s a former merc leader,” Arcanus, “former vigilante,” Garrus, “and walking dead person,” finally motioning herself.  “Fuck credentials, Lantar.  I’m not going to be asking for your medical license while bleeding out from a bullet hole.”  Sidonis thinks on that a moment before nodding softly.  “Good.  Now go get something to eat and be ready to go in the next… Aelia?” she calls out with a glance to the ceiling, they all knowing that the pilots are constantly alert to any comms calls.  

“ _Looking for ETA?”_

“You know me so well.  When will we be clear of docking procedures?”

“ _We will have access within the next half hour.”_

Jane nods and takes the pad as Garrus slides it back over the chart of crew information and requests for confidential medical file releases.  Medic or not and grudges aside, Garrus has to admit that Sidonis is aware enough of his duties to think ahead and predict what resources and information he will need to successfully treat patients.  It might not be needed considering the return of Doctor Chakwas, but he’s earned some respect for taking the initiative.  

Not that it’s lessened Garrus’ views of the man, but it could be a possible start.   _Doubt it_.

* * *

 

Once the all clear to leave the Normandy was given, Jane took to the ship-wide intercom to address the crew and allow them two hours of leave.  There wasn’t much they could find to do aboard the Destiny Ascension aside from browse the sparse vendors that survived the evacuation from the Citadel.  Still, Garrus was sure that they appreciated the chance to see more than the inside of the Normandy even if it was replaced by the interior of another.  

Various members of the crew all but run through the CIC and out into the Ascension, and Garrus chuckles to see their joy and relief at the change.  He waits with his mate at the Galaxy map, overlooking the sprawling holographic image of the war torn remains of the Reapers’ assault.  They will be some of the last to leave the ship in order to let those that will join them prepare their things, Annie to collect her belongings and Sidonis to gather whatever he needs when they meet up with Chakwas.

Turning to the opening elevator, Garrus rumbles in greeting to Arcanus as the older man steps off the the people in question.  The white plated man nods in equal greeting as he steps off with the others.  Annie smiles warmly up at the two Spectres before stepping around Arcanus.  

“Well, this is where I get off,” she says as Jane steps down from the command console with a nod.

“Indeed, it is.”  His wife chuckles and motions towards the cockpit.  “Shall we?”

“Actually,” Arcanus begins as they all make their way down the CIC.  “I would like to request the opportunity to escort her myself and deal with all matters concerning payment.”  At Jane's raised brow, he adds, “Do not worry.  I have no intentions of violence.”  

 _In other words, the two have reconciled some of their dark past._ Garrus nods in agreement with a rumble of understanding to a man he may very well consider a brother.  Annie smiles with a tenderness in her eyes as she nods to Jane's silent question.  

“Well then, alrighty,” his wife concedes.  “If that's cool with you two, then I'm all for it.  I'm sure the ship won't fall apart in the two hours all of us are off.”

“You would be surprised.”  She snorts at Arcanus’ joke as Garrus taps the command for the airlock.

“Hey.”  Joker swivels in his seat.  “Rumors have it we're finally getting a doc.  Because, you know, I just _love_ being reminded every hour 'not to strain yourself’ or ‘take your medicine the same time every day’.”

“Come on, now.”  Jane smirks and crosses her arms, leaning a hip on the waiting airlock doors.  “I’m sure I can get Aelia or Lantar to do it if you miss it so much.  Maybe we can even get Lantar, here, to wear a skimpy nurse’s outfit.”

Aelia snorts an amused huff, Sidonis bites back a squeak of embarrassment, but the best has to be Joker’s groan.  “That’s going to be an adamant ‘pass’.”

The animosity Garrus has towards Joker is no secret and entirely not without reason.  If not for the pilot, Garrus would have never lost his bondmate above Alchera, would have never had to live two years on Omega trying to join her, and there’s not much Joker can do to make Garrus forget that.  It was lessened by the war and the sheer hell the man managed to pull them out of, but he still had moments that caused Garrus irritation.

Still, Joker had proven he could excel at his job in situations that could easily cow any lesser pilot.  He also wore - and still wears - the guilt of his mistakes on his own features, earning understanding.  Garrus also sees the realization within Joker at the loss of a love, for which Garrus can still his anger.  In the end, the two are closer than they were during the war.

“Where’s your sense of adventure?”  Jane shakes her head in mock disappointment as she jerks her chin to the now open airlock.  “Come on guys, let’s leave the prude.”

“And you’re welcome, by the way,” Joker shouts over his shoulder as the doors slide shut.  His voice comes over the intercom as he continues.   _“I wasn’t really using that back brace, so I’m happy it’s not collecting dust.  You look good, by the way, Garrus.”_

“It’s good to hear you acknowledge that I wear it better than you,” Garrus responds with a rumble of a chuckle.  “Course, I wouldn’t need it if I was sitting in a nice, supportive, leather seat.  What do you say we trade?”

_“Ha!  I’m afraid you’re out of luck.”_

Annie chuckles and looks to Garrus.  “I’m sure I could find something worth some good blackmail material on his terminal-”

Jane snorts and quirks her lips.  “Don’t waste your time.  I can guess what it is right now.  Something involving tentacles, balls out, slippery-”

“ _O-kay,”_ Joker cuts in.  “ _That might be what_ **_you_ ** _watch, but let’s not give Aelia nightmares here.”_

 _“Pssht - Like I haven’t seen worse,”_ the woman in question retorts.

“ _Good-bye,_ Joker,” Jane says with emphasize and a chuckle as the airlock opens.  “We’ll contact the Normandy if anything comes up.  Oh, and keep an eye out for deliveries.  We requisitioned more supplies and Harrot ordered some shit for Garrus’ arm.”

“ _Understood,_ ” Aelia answers as the comm clicks off and the five of them step out of the airlock and out into the Docking Deck of the Ascension where a sort of marketplace has been created to attract the attentions of those from ships docked for whatever reasons.  Why anyone would purchase some of the items here as if they were on a souvenir trip is something Garrus just can’t understand, but he figures it has to do something with the fact that most here are turning a blind eye to the state of a post-war galaxy as if it would fix itself.  

It’s those very people that he cannot stand and cause him to question the point of fighting so hard to save the universe they exist in.

Annie stops and turns back to him and his mate, smiling with a hint of sadness in her eyes.  “Well, I guess this is where we part.”  

Jane nods and offers a hand.  “It was an honor to meet you.”

The older woman steps closer and hugs his wife, surprising her, but the redhead relaxes.  “No.  It was mine.”  Stepping back, she takes hold of Jane’s shoulders.  “I hope we can meet again one day.”

With a chuckle, his wife nods and says, “I’d say I’d look you up, but I doubt you’d have the same name.”

Annie pauses at that, her single eye glancing aside in thought before she releases Jane and opens her Omni-Tool.  “I am sending you an extranet address.  All you have to do is leave your name and I’ll contact you.”  She smiles and sends the address to Jane’s Tool, Garrus’ back in his arm on the ship.  “I actually will admit I look forward to hearing from you two.”  Closing her Tool, she offers a hand to Garrus and he takes it.  “Take care of her.”

“Always,” he assures.   _As if there were ever a doubt._

“And Shepard?” she says softly, smiling softly as she pulls up her shawl over her head.  “Think about what I said?”

He doesn’t know what the woman means by that, but Jane obviously does as she tips her chin in a sign of respect for the request.  Whatever they spoke about has some sort of significance, some possibility to aid Jane, and even without knowing what it pertains to, Garrus can tell that Annie has a sort of desperation to have her words heeded and remembered.  

“I will if you tell us your real name,” Jane says as the woman moves to put on her mask, causing Annie’s hands to still.

A slight huff comes from the older sniper’s lips as she smiles and looks to Arcanus for a pointed moment before catching Jane’s own emeralds.  “Ellie.”


	52. Chapter 52

Jane

Jane lets her mate guide her away from the two older soldiers and after Sidonis as he leads deeper into the crowds in search of Doctor Chakwas. With hope, Jane's plea to Arcanus to let the wounds of time and circumstance begin to heal and the once thin thread between the two has had a chance to double over and build strength.

Something about the way Arcanus holds himself in Ellie's presence and her returned ease as Jane glances their way in parting tells her that perhaps she has been able to instill some knowledge on the older turian. She knows he's imparted enough of his own over the time knowing him, but even with all his experience, Jane knows Arcanus is shit at relationships that don't involve credits and their relation to his work. Of course, the hint of pride in being the voice of wisdom for once has it's own appeal.

"Alright," she cuts off her own thoughts as she looks to Sidonis a step in front of her and her mate. "Do you know where she wants to meet?" Lantar nods and glances down at his Omni-Tool as a very familiar and comforting voice from the past calls out.

"Shepard!"

Jane grins and looks to Garrus, knowing he has the highest vantage point of the three of them to be able to find Chakwas in the crowd. He rumbles and she watches his mandibles relax as he catches sight of them before looking down. "Found them. Come on."

Taking his hand, Jane waves her other to Lantar in 'follow me' as Garrus shoulders through the crowd. Many grunt or bark out in annoyed agitation at the rough force, but glances in the direction of the trio pushing against the flow of foot traffic leads to recognition. That recognition then leads to either looks of stunned awe, which Jane hates more than the looks of fear or anger.

Being seen as the only ones able to defeat the monsters by, in turn, becoming ones themselves, Jane can understand. It is easy to fear the scarred victors of a bloody war by knowing the types of horrors they had to commit to overcome the unimaginable or to hate them for making decisions that saved some while damning others, but awe? Acceptance? Jane doesn't want, nor feel they deserve to be seen as heroes. Not when their 'win' came at the cost of one life over another and the planets people called home now lying in ruins.

Gone or not, in her eyes, the Reapers have still won and the galaxy just doesn't want to admit it.

"Shepard!" Chakwas' voice is closer as Garrus begins to slow, the crowd finally parting on its own will.

Coming to stand beside her mate, Jane smiles as the silver-haired woman nudges her way towards them, her features relaxed and happy in a way that Shepard hasn't seen in a very long time. If ever.

"Karin," She calls as she releases Garrus' hand, steps forward, and offers it to the doctor. It isn't a moment before the woman is before her, taking the offered hand in both of hers and just holding it tightly as her eyes narrow and smile widens.

"Oh, Shepard," Karin says, barely above a whisper. "It's so good to see you." Her eyes flutter a bit as she sniffles and turns to Garrus. "And you, Garrus. I knew you'd take care of her."

"It's good to see you again," He agrees with a soothing purr and offers his only hand, which causes a frown to crease over Chakwas' once elated features.

"Good Lord, Garrus. Please tell me you aren't going out into the field like that." She shakes her head in amused exasperation. "Unless you're here to surprise me with your retirement."

"Oh course he isn't," another voice from the past- though not one Jane expected- says as it makes it's way to join them. Zaeed steps through the crowd at Chakwas' back with a slight limp and smirks at the appearance of Garrus. "You look like fucking hell, Vakarian."

"And you look like something out of a varren pit, but I figured you already knew that," the turian retorts and Massani barks a laugh.

"I feel enough like shit." Shaking his head, he takes first Garrus' then Jane's offered hand. "What the bloody hell are you doing? You're supposed to be on a goddamn vacation."

"We actually came to see if Karin here would like to join," Jane says as she chuckles. "Although, with you here, I gotta ask you now, too. Can't miss out on the chance to have our crotchety old merc back."

Zaeed barks an unamused laugh and Jane begins to notice Chakwas' expression change. Her joy at finding them once again after the end of the war is still present, but now a look of concern paints her features as she frowns. Sidonis is the first to vocalize Jane's thoughts.

He trills low and worried as he steps closer to her and asks, "Doctor? Are you alright?"

"Yes. Yes," she starts with a reassuring smile. "I just…" Karin looks to Zaeed in a look that Jane can read all too well. _Huh… Guess there's more than just the outward appearance of patient and doctor here. No wonder the old bastard is anywhere near politics…_

"I take it you aren't here just to jump back on board." When the doctor nods with a frown, Jane puffs air past her lips in thought. "Damn…"

"I'm sorry, Shepard. But I just can't go back to that." Chakwas crosses her arms and looks to the floor. "I've been serving long enough to see the First Contact War _and_ by right there on the Normandy for the entire Reaper War. I still have nightmares of that Collector ship. And now the Alliance is planning another…"

"It's about damn time for retirement," Zaeed explains and Chakwas nods. He lays an arm around Karin's shoulders.

"I know," Jane agrees as she frowns, looking at her hands at the reminder that Doctor Chakwas was right there in that Collector Base just as Jane was. Where Jane was dragged from the Normandy will only the thoughts of revenge fueling her will, others - like Karin - were left with nothing but fear of the torture and death that would come if Garrus couldn't bring the team to rescue them fast enough. "I think we all deserve it."

Garrus rumbles at her side and lays his hand on her shoulder, the action pulling her from her thoughts. Looking up to the older pair, Jane sees guilt and apology in the woman's eyes. Even with the desire to finally rest, Chakwas regrets not being there for the people cared for and still sees as family. It's that reason that Jane forces herself to relax and nod, trusting that the woman will see no sign of accusation or anger in her eyes.

"Well," Jane says as she reaches up to take her mate's hand in hers. "I think we can all wrestle Joker into taking his meds. What kind of soldiers would we be if we couldn't figure out _some_ way?"

Chakwas relaxes and smiles, nodding in wordless thanks as Garrus rumbles, catching on. "I don't know. Something tells me he'd just get us all back by sending feedback through the intercoms at all hours."

Even Lantar understands the cues and his vocals yip in mock shock. "Spirits, please don't tell me he can actually do that."

Karin chuckles and shakes her head, smiling as she steps forward and offers a hand to Sidonis. "Here, let me see that chart and I'll write down everything you need to know."

Mandibles flapping as he nods his head with a eager hum, Sidonis watches over the edge of the pad as she types. As she works, Chakwas will occasionally glance up and speak. "This data is very well kept up to date." Sidonis practically beams at that. "Garrus? Did you really fracture your spine? You had better be taking it easy," she scolds with a glare over the pad and Garrus simply flicks his mandible in innocence, getting him a snort of amusement. "Shepard. I see the _others_ are doing well." The emphasis makes Jane realize it's not _all_ the others Chakwas speaks of, but two very special 'others'. She's proven correct when the doctor adds, "And they're ready for their first immunization."

"Uh, that's one of the problems, ma'am." Sidonis takes the datapad back when offered and his mandibles flicker anxiously. Jane knows it's half his inexperience with anything not dressing a battle wound _and_ the presence of both parents - one of which is more likely to strangle him than not - but Chakwas' encouraging smile obviously help as he continues. "I'm just a field medic. I already know quite a bit about field wounds and I can learn more, but I have no clue how to tend to," he leans closer and whispers the rest to her to keep away stray listeners.

Karin nods and lays a hand on his shoulder. "Don't worry…"

"Lantar," Jane supplies, not sure how the poor man would react to having to give a name that the entire Normandy crew is sure to know as the one that nearly caused Garrus' death. He gives her a surprised look, perhaps because she didn't say it with any ire or expect him to carry the revelation alone, and she nods in 'keep going' to the doctor.

"Don't worry, Lantar." Chakwas looks to Garrus and Jane. "I actually wasn't planning on letting you leave without a doctor."

"Oh?" Jane lifts a brow and the woman nods, looking to Zaeed.

"Would you mind going to get him?" With a nod, he leaves and the doctor chuckles, apparently amused by something about this mysterious stranger. When Jane jerks her chin in his direction in obvious question, Chakwas either ignores it and changes subject or starts to lead up to an introduction. Which, Jane isn't quite sure just yet.

"Directly after the war, I was working on Earth trying to assist refugees within Alliance camps so that they could begin the process of returning home-"

"That was where you met Zaeed, I figure?"

"Yes," Karin answers, not at all bothered by the interruption. "I treated his injuries and, despite my insistence against it, he refused to leave my small tent. Said it was better if I had someone there in case desperation became too much for the refugees surrounding my station. I felt no danger, but, well, you know how he can be."

"Paranoid?" Jane says with a smirk and nudges her mate. "I pretty much got that when he and this one tried to boobytrap the apartment on the Citadel. _While_ drunk, I might add."

"It's still a legitimate defense strategy," her husband simply retorts with a shrug and she shakes her head with an eye roll, motioning Karin to continue.

"Then you understand how impossible it was to convince him I was alright. Still, I'll admit the company was well appreciated and I was more than happy to have him accompany me here when I had realized how much worse the refugee situation was." Shaking her head softly, she crosses her arms and looks around the Docking Hold. "But it seems I arrived too late. By the time we got here, the refugees were just… gone."

"Yeah," Jane says with a scowl at the thought, looking to Sidonis. "Lantar says that they were just ditching people at every stop. Kicking them off to make room so the fucking politicians weren't confused into believing there was an _actual war_."

Karin frowns and is silent for a time before voices begin to approach and urge her to continue her story. "We did manage to meet someone that can help you, Shepard. He's a doctor that, in the short time knowing him, trust completely with yours and the Normandy crew's health."

"Who is he?" Garrus asks as Zaeed leads in a salarian that, upon first glance, almost makes Jane think she's seeing a ghost.

"Garrus, Shepard, Lantar," Chakwas says as she turns to the man, smiling. "Meet Doctor Elihu Solus."

Her mate trills in surprise as Jane's own eyes widen slightly. If space magic ever existed, Jane would have imagined they'd been sent back in time to be thrown face-to-face with a much younger, less hornless Mordin Solus. From red crested forehead to the way the man walked, all she sees is the bastard that refused to let her save him so that he could fix what he saw as his greatest mistake and sin.

"Spectres Shepard and Vakarian." _Fuck, he almost sounds the exact same if not for the slight change in pitch._ "Very nice to meet you." He offers a hand that Garrus shakes first, overcoming his shock quicker than Jane who is left giving one of the most pitiful handshakes she's ever given. "Lantar," Solus adds as he shakes the only sane one of the trio's hand. "Heard many great things."

"You wouldn't happened to be related to a Professor Mordin Solus, would you?" Garrus hums as he asks the question, no doubt examining the salarian head to two.

Grinning, the doctor nods once. "Yes. Mordin Solus was my uncle."

"Holy shit… That makes you, what? _Seventeen?_ " When he nods, Jane throws up her hand. "Fuck… I still can't get my head around that. You're a doctor. At seventeen."

A slight chuckle comes from Doctor Chakwas as she leans closer to Zaeed to watch. Elihu simply nods and explains, "Decided to change direction of study when found out about war. My uncle tried to keep it secret, but I understood it was something very big if he left Omega to pursue. I assumed it involved his work on large scale if he had to leave behind the work he loved by helping people." Tapping his chin in a way that makes Jane's heart clench, he hums and nods. "Yes. Thought following medical studies before genetics more beneficial should suspicious galactic activity prove more than politics."

"So you…." Stopping, Jane shakes her head to regain composure. She lost so many during the war, but has not yet seen the embodiment of their ghost. _Did you find your beach full of seashells, Mordin?_ "Sorry-"

"Understand. I have been told I look like my uncle." He frowns and offers to lay a hand on her shoulder, hesitating before touching her lightly. "He spoke highly of you. Cared about cause and was grateful to have been part of something more."

Garrus rumbles softly and nods, taking her hand and squeezing as he says, "He was a good friend."

"Shepard," Chakwas calls, breaking the tension. "I know he is young, but I've seen his work. Elihu is the only doctor I trust to the Normandy."

Jane nods in understanding. It's not the man's trustworthiness she's struggling with, it's her past and her demons. Looking to Solus, she motions the Ascension. "What about your work here? Helping refugees."

"Unfortunately, I face the same challenges as Doctor Chakwas. Refugees have been removed and any inquiry leads to no success." He tsks and shakes his head once. "Despicable way to treat any species, but demand for answers leads only to more questions. Cannot help those that I cannot find."

Tapping her fingers on her thigh, Jane looks up to her mate for any additional opinions. Having a doctor aboard will definitely be better than having to expect Sidonis to know all treatments and with Chakwas' word as an added bonus, there isn't much in the way of her agreeing. The fact that he's apparently the same nephew that Mordin spoke so highly of is just an added mark on the 'pros list.

"There's only one thing, Elihu," Garrus says with a hum, his tone serious. "There may be things you see on the Normandy that cannot, under any circumstances, find their way off the ship. There are secrets that you will die with before you ever speak them."

Without hesitation, Solus nods once. "Understand. Would never break patient-doctor confidentiality."

"And what about what you see _outside_ of the MedBay?"

"Location on ship doesn't matter," Elihu protests, moving his hands in the same sharp gestures his uncle once did. "All manner of information pertains to patient health. If information deemed secretive, then release creates risk to health." Stopping, he crosses his hands behind his back and lifts his chin. "I do not need to be a soldier to know when it is safer to protect and withhold than release."

Her mate rumbles in satisfaction with a nod in her direction, a sign that Elihu has passed inspection. Chuckling herself, Jane nods and steps forward, offering a hand. "Welcome aboard."


	53. Chapter 53

Jane

Karin and Zaeed join them as they return to the Normandy with Elihu in tow. It's nice to see the hints of Mordin within the much younger Solus. Jane knows that his age is actually considered adult for salarians, but it's still a shock to the system to realize the Elihu has only had seventeen fucking years to get to a level of professionalism that Chakwas herself is entrusting the Normandy crew's care to him. Knowing that the woman has always seen them as her family, it must truly speak to his capabilities.

Which is perfect for the shit Jane and her squad seem to always find themselves chest deep in.

"Oh hell," Joker says, swinging his chair around to stand with a grin plastered on his face. "I knew Shepard wasn't pulling one off on me when she threatened to get someone in here to make me take my meds."

Chakwas, smiling and taking Joker into a hug, chuckles as she responds. "I should have guessed you'd be skipping doses without me to keep on you."

"And now we have an all new doctor to keep on your ass," Jane adds as she turns to Sidonis and Elihu. "Lantar. How about you show Elihu to the MedBay." He nods as she addresses Solus. "I don't suspect we'll need anything yet, but if you need to requisition something, now's the time."

The salarian doctor stops from his curious scanning over the cockpit and locks eyes with her, nodding. "I understand. Confident in Sidonis' cataloguing. Will double check, though."

"Sounds good. We'll get you hooked up with Harrot just in case." Watching the two men head down the ramp and towards the CIC, out of hearing range, Jane returns her attention to the cockpit as Garrus introduces Zaeed and Karin to Aelia.

Chakwas makes an amused remark about the Normandy managing to find both familiar faces and distantly related names to those they've met over the years just as Traynor approaches. "Doctor!" she calls with a beaming smile as she wraps her arms around the the older woman and squeezes hard enough to make Karin grunt.

"Don't break the woman," Zaeed says with a hint of protectiveness that Jane is sure everyone can catch on, but remain smart enough not to point out, and Chakwas chuckles, patting Samantha's back.

"It's alright," she lightly scolds with a smile. "I'm not made of glass."

"Traynor," Garrus cuts in, rumbling in apology for interrupting. "Can you contact Tali and give her our dock number?" He looks to their guests. "There's something big going on that the Council has dumbed on our shoulders."

The woman nods and Zaeed laughs. Jane can swear it's one of those 'better you than me' ones. "Just like old times, eh Vakarian?" he says with a smirk to the two of them.

Jane snorts and rolls her eyes as she says, sarcasm dripping in her tone, "You know us. Can't get enough of the 'good ol' times' that we just begged the Council to load our asses down with some more jobs no one seems to be able to do."

"We won't keep you, Shepard." Chakwas steps forward and holds her arms open in a silent request for a hug that Jane accepts and returns. When they part, she takes Garrus' offered hand in both of hers, understanding Jane's mate's aversion to physical contact. "There is _one_ thing I'd like to ask before we leave."

The hopeful smile and slight plea in her eyes tells Jane enough of what she is leading to and she chuckles, nudging her husband with an elbow. "See that? Everyone just wants to spend time with us so they can see our children."

When Chakwas would give the twins' their medical checkups, she always showed a kind of tenderness that made Jane truly question why the woman would ever choose to treat hardened soldiers. She could easily see the woman tending to children of all species on the Citadel, patching 'boo boos' and handing out candy as rewards for good behavior, but here she was, serving on an Alliance ship that was the center of a massive, devastating war.

Jane still doesn't fully know the reasons, but she thanks the woman all the same. Her crew - her _mate_ \- wouldn't be in the condition they are in without her care. Plus, the children that meant the most to Jane - her own - had the opportunity to have Chakwas' care, and that was good enough for Jane.

"I can take them up to see the twins," Samantha offers as she looks between both parents. "They are resting, but it's almost time to check up on them anyways."

When she smiles in reassurance to any thoughts of disturbing the children that might pop up, Jane shrugs and nods. "I'm sure they'd like the company that isn't the same, boring mom and dad."

Zaeed snorts. "No one will get bored of you two. Well, until you retire and get old and fat."

"You know we'd rock being a pair of old fucks."

He barks a laugh as he and Chakwas follow Traynor down the CIC. Turning to her mate, Jane motions with her chin towards the door beside the lift heading for the Conference and War Rooms that just seem to be around to collect dust now. "Let's see if we can't spruce up the place while we wait."

He surprises her with a smirk as he says, "Normally, that means leaving the imprint of your rear on whatever surface you are 'cleaning'."

Laughing at the remembrance of the one time they actually did that back at the refugee camp when they were living in a cramped prefab with his sister and father - and how hilarious it was to hear his father's reaction to smelling sex in the kitchenette and the confusion of why - Jane swats the back of her hand on his chest. "Don't tempt me." She steps into the glass walled room and circles the table to lean back against it to look out of the viewports where the stars peek in through the Ascension's kinetic barriers enclosing the open Docking Bay. "But I'm too occupied wondering what the fuck is with the geth to be in the mood."

Garrus hums in agreement and comes around to match her stance. "Think it may help in repairing EDI in the long run?"

"Hell if I know." She snorts in self-depreciation, remembering the decision she made back on the Citadel to save the galaxy at the price of the geth and EDI. "There might not ever be a way to fix her. And the geth, apparently." Feeling his hand lay on hers in support, she looks to him and gives a sad shrug. "Let's see what Tali has to say."

* * *

When Tali arrives at the Normandy airlock, Jane and Garrus are alerted by Aelia that the even the unknowing eye can see she's anxious when she is supposedly out of earshot. It is enough to give the two a good sign that this conversation is not going to entail a 'hey, the geth are all good and didn't feel a damn thing when the Reapers kicked it'. What, exactly, is up with the geth and quarian situation is something they will just have to hear from Tali's own lips.

"Tali," Jane greets with a smile, circumstances aside, at seeing her good friend step through the doors of the defunct security checkpoint. Tali's eyes narrow in a smile as she shift the package in her grasp to one hand and hugs the redhead. "It's good to see you after so long."

"You too, Shepard," the quarian agrees as she turns to Garrus, pulling him into a hug before even realizing his state. "Garrus," she says before gasping, voice rising in shock. "Keelah! What happened to you?"

"I tried to cuddle with a Mako," he responds with a chuckle and flippant shrug, only making the young girl mad as she scoffs and smacks his chest in reprimand.

"You bosh'tet! What's wrong with you?" Putting her free hand on her hip, she cocks her stance. "You have babies to take care of now."

"That's nothing, Tali." Jane leans down and hikes up her pant leg, rapping her knuckles on the metal of her artificial leg. "I got the better ones."

She's pretty sure Tali has a bit of a heart attack as she makes what sounds like a possible hiccup of a sob and yanks Jane into another hug. She holds her as if Jane would disappear if she gives so much as an inch of breathing room, but Shepard lets her squeeze her if that's what her friend needs to reassure herself that they made it, they survived.

"Now I feel left out," Garrus says with a chuckle when they finally part, but Tali waves him off, head down as she sniffles a bit.

"Oh, be quiet." He voice is soft and retort devoid of any bite as she takes a moment to collect herself. Once it feels like she's convinced herself they really are standing here before her, Tali takes a deep breath to switch moods. "I got Damocles and Cassia something for their birthday," she says as she looks back to them and back down to the package in her hands, laying a hand on it to slowly peel back the wrapping. "I know you bosh'tets are going to try to skip out on letting me throw a big party for awhile, so I thought I'd go ahead and give you these."

She reveals what looks like intricately embroidered cloth, weaved with patterns similar to her own hood and many designs Jane has seen on the hoods of many quarians. Being on the Flotilla the one time, she remembers seeing so many colors and patterns that she is sure represent the quarian people's artistic culture in the only way they can. It is no wonder that they would treasure such work as gifts and Jane feels a special sort of joy that her good friend would deem hers and Garrus' children close enough to reach out with her own traditions.

"Tali," Garrus says as she hands one robe-like, child's garment to him and another to Jane. "They're beautiful."

Jane nods in agreement as she runs her fingers over the light blue fabric, her husband being especially careful with the darker cobalt. "They're definitely too delicate for the kids. Hell," she says with a huff of a laugh. "I think, just by being in our hands, these things will burst into flames."

Tali chuckles and sets the packaging aside. "Everything else tends to." Tilting her head slightly, she speaks with a tone that lets Jane know she's smiling. "It's a tradition for my people to exchange shawls with loved ones or give a version of it to loved ones when expecting children." She snorts and shrugs. "And even though you refused to tell me, of all people, that you were pregnant, I still wanted them to have these."

Jane looks up to her good friend who is like a sister she never had, she smiles at the warm crescent of Tali's bright eyes as she grins happily. "Thank you, Tali. It's an honor." Chuckling, she gently folds the clothing, helping her mate do the same. "They may never wear them without destroying them in two seconds, but we will always remember this."

The quarian woman nods, the gesture slowly stilling as the air of the room immediately chills, mood changing at the flip of a switch. "I just wish we could have seen each other for better reasons."

"Agreed," Garrus says as he turns from them, starting to pace, and Tali begins to wring her hands in a way that reads stress Jane would have hoped the girl wouldn't still be having after the war, after regaining her homeworld. "I think we should finally consider what was so troubling about the geth situation that you didn't want to speak of it over unsecured channels."

"Damn, Garrus. Rip that bandaid right off." She wishes they could have had a bit more time of forgetting the present situations of the shit hole of a galaxy, but she knows that, with the possibility of geth now attacking friendly ships, time is short. Nothing has ever been quick and simple with geth, and Jane is sure this is much the same.

"No, it's okay, Shepard. He's right." Walking to the table, Tali looks between the two of them. "The geth have reverted."

"They've what?"

"Reverted," she repeats before releasing a breath and relaxing her shoulders to try to explain. "When the Reapers were destroyed, it was less a physical destruction and more one on a programming level. From what we see in the geth, it's like the Reaper upgrades, and subsequent geth upgrades that came from them, have been irreparably corrupted."

Seeing her mate look to her to explain why, Jane sighs and leans on the table. "Yeah," she says, getting Tali's attention. "I don't know how she did it, but EDI said she would confuse the Reaper Intelligence with so much jumbled code that it would self-destruct. Something like that."

"Intelligence?"

"Some giant AI light thing that was what the Leviathan originally created. It started all this shit." Lifting her hand in 'that's all I got', Jane shrugs. "The Crucible wasn't a weapon, it was a piece of the Citadel that broke off and made it so that the damn thing couldn't 'talk' to the Reapers. Whatever we did, the Crucible was like a speaker telling all the Reapers to go fuck themselves as the Intelligence killed itself… I don't know," she adds when she's sure that leaves so much more to question that she doesn't have the smarts to answer. _How I wish EDI was here to explain_.

Still, even with her lackluster explanation, Tali nods in understanding. "I see." Cupping her hand at her chin, elbow in her opposite palm, she looks down to the table in thought. "Maybe that's what happened to the geth." She looks up to them. "EDI is affected, too?"

"She's completely offline," Garrus answers as Jane frowns and ducks her head. "We can't seem to compile her programing into anything close to functional."

"We were hoping there'd be hope with the geth."

"I'm sorry, Shepard." Tali frowns behind her mask as she drops her hands. "The geth are no longer as they were after Legion disseminated himself to give them the capability of becoming true, independent AIs." Hands wringing, she starts to take two steps left, then right, pacing a short circle. "Each platform was a merging of programs into a single individual, but when the Reaper code was corrupted, they, once again, became unable to function separately."

"So they had to rely on servers again to come together and share data and experiences," Garrus concludes and Tali nods.

"Yes, but that's not all." She lowers her voice as she nearly whispers, "With each platform unable to function alone, there are now so many platforms that are nonfunctional."

"Wait," Jane frowns as she starts to do the math. She has never even come _close_ to claiming to be any good with the bastards called numbers, but she can remember what Legion once told her. "So, if in the beginning, each platform was many programs and, with the Reaper code, those many platforms became one, then that meant, technically, the numbers decreased. Many parts becoming one whole, so to speak." Tali nods slowly, confused as to where she's getting. "So, now they are pieces again. Wouldn't that mean that their numbers are even _smaller_ now that many of these so called combined geth are no longer able to function separately?"

"Shepard," Tali intones, her eyes frowning in worry. "That's not the true problem with the geth… The heretics have returned."

Garrus growls as Jane blinks in surprise. "You're shitting me."

The quarian girl shakes her head as she opens her Tool, tapping commands to send an image to the projection wall. On it, there is a large ship much like the one they had boarded so long ago with Legion in order to wipe out a sect of heretic programs. "It seems like all geth were not affected by the Reaper code corruption the same. Some have been downgraded to their original programming while some now believe they are 'lost' without the Reaper code."

"Lost?" Garrus looks to her from the projection. "They are aware of their previous state? Of being individual AIs?" Tali nods as he hums in thought. "And here we thought the geth no longer had that calculation difference to turn them into heretics."

"Make sense," Jane says as she leans on the table. "Legion said the heretics were born because their coding came up with a different answer. If the self-destruct button had different outcomes to them, then it looks like we have another coding problem." She looks to Tali and taps her fingers on the table. "How many heretics are we talking? This ship only?"

Tali nods her head and closes the Tool. "There are platforms functioning on Rannoch, but, if we destroy this dreadnought, then they will be unable to reconnect to the consensus with the servers destroyed."

"Leaving the geth and quarian marines to eliminate those that remain hidden on Rannoch." Garrus hums as he comes to stand beside Jane. "And here I thought we were done with geth dreadnoughts."

"Never," Jane agrees with a sigh as she leans up, nodding once. "Alright. We will head to Rannoch and regroup, maybe see if any of the geth have knowledge of the possible layout of this dreadnought." Rolling her shoulders, she puffs an annoyed huff through her lips. "I really fucking hate how the Normandy is the only damn stealth ship. But no one is better fit for the job," she adds with a sarcastic air of joy.

* * *

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> SquigglySquid says:  I will be leaving the country starting the 4th until the 19th.  While I will be writing offline, I cannot guarantee I can update while gone.  But, hey, maybe that means I can do a mega upload?  :D


	54. Chapter 54

Garrus

With the tools and supplies Harrot was able to acquire while on the Destiny Ascension, Garrus had been able to begin his arm's repair while in transit to Rannoch. Working intently during that time, he is now close to completion and works at the desk in his and his family's cabin, soldering the delicate wiring.

"Will you be ready for our drop?" His wife asks as she gently bounces Cassia on her hip and caresses Damocles' head as he sleeps on the bed before coming to look over Garrus' shoulder. He looks back to her with a raised brow in question and she merely shrugs with a smile. "I'm trying to figure out what you're doing."

"And what did you find out?" He asks with a chuckle, knowing full well her experience on anything tech related. There _is_ a reason she has everyone else do anything dealing with tech on their missions, after all.

"No fucking clue," she answers with a snort, leaving over to kiss his fringe. "Fixing shit is what I have you around for." She looks to their daughter. "Isn't that right, my little princess?"

Their daughter chirps happily and grins at the attention, her tiny hands reaching out for mommy. The sight makes Garrus purr tenderly as he smiles to his mate. Yes, _they_ made this wonderful beauty in the universe and her equally amazing brother. There is nothing else in the galaxy that could bring the joy and peace he feels than his wife and their children.

A high pitched cheer comes from Cassia and he chuckles, setting the soldering iron down. Turning to Jane, he cups the back of her thigh and pulls her close to shift his hand to her rear, rumbling deep in his chest.

"Oh?" Jane smirks and chuckles huskily. "i didn't know having a babbling baby on my hip makes you so hot under the plates."

"You make me 'hot under the plates' no matter what you do or how you look," he corrects with a slight squeeze. "Holding _my_ child only makes you all the more sexy."

Her brow lifts and lips quirk as their oblivious daughter grips the red haired braid and starts to mouth it. Leaning down, Jane presses her forehead to Garrus' and he purrs, closing his eyes at the warm feeling her touch brings. When she shifts aside, he opens his eyes and leans over to nuzzle their daughter's forehead.

"I should get the babies dressed," Jane says as she straightens up and gently pulls her hair from their child's mouth, offering her waggling fingers as entertainment instead. "We should stop bothering daddy and let him get his arm, shouldn't we?"

"Daddy is perfectly fine with one arm," he lies with a smirk and spins his chair. "It's mommy who can't stand me not changing diapers."

She snorts from the direction of the bed. "Damn right. You feed them whatever makes their shit stink, you help clean it." When Cassia tries to make an attempt at a word - and only ending up with a jumble of syllables - Jane's warm hum of encouragement reaches his ears. "That's right. You and your brother are better weapons of mass destruction than the Reapers."

"Think we could market them off as the most dangerous twins in the galaxy? That has to grant us some benefits. Maybe a nice retirement plan?" At her snort, Garrus flicks his mandibles in amusement - a gesture only seen by his reflection in the metal of his prosthetic. "You're right. The Council would sooner find way to a new galaxy than give us at least some vacation time. Forget retirement."

"You're right. That's _way_ too much to ask of them." He chuckles as she comes to him and kisses the top of his fringe, her obviously empty hands rubbing his shoulders.

Purring, he lets his eyes close for a moment as he relaxes in her hands. Her nimble fingers make him feel like nothing but jelly, plates soft and malleable like when he was a child and in a molt. Only she can make him feel so at ease.

" _Garrus? Shepard?"_ Aelia's voice speaks through the intercom, waking Damocles by the sound of his confused mumble of senseless sounds that count as his attempt to form words. " _Sorry to bother you, but you wanted to know when we're an hour and a half out."_

"Rannoch, here we come," Jane says with a huff of exasperation. Garrus knows full well that dealing with another geth problem was the last thing on her list - on _both_ of their lists - but, when the galaxy calls with problems, the two of them are apparently the only ones capable of solving them.

"Jane," he pleads with a soft rumble. "Try to think of this as a small vacation?"

She snorts and shifts Cassia on one hip, freeing her hand to gently pull a waking Damocles up against her side. "Suits us, right? I always considered our fight on Virmire as the honeymoon out we never took."

"Funny. I thought it was perfect. You, me, and plenty of explosions." He chuckles at her unamused 'uh huh' and eye roll. "I even lose sleep thinking of how I'll ever do better than that on our next anniversary."

"Smart ass." He feels her lean over and kiss his fringe. "I'm heading downstairs to feed the kids. Maybe rope Vega or Sidonis into helping me. Oh! Arcanus! Even better!"

Chuckling, he lifts his head to take a real kiss from her. "Good luck with that one."

His attention going back to his repairs, he hears her snort and say something softly to their children. Whatever it is, it's obviously very entertaining as she gets a babbled response from Damocles and chirp from Cassia, but Jane doesn't let Garrus in on the obvious joke - on his own expense, if he _truly_ wants to say he knows his wife. Instead, she heads out of the Cabin with babies in hand.

He does have to admit that the silence gives him the chance to focus entirely on his work. Not that the task is all that difficult to begin with, nor that his family is too loud or obnoxious to concentrate, just that he wishes he could be doing something more entertaining than working on tech. He has a way of letting himself get distracted by Jane and his twins and, in a perfect galaxy, that wouldn't be a problem, but their luck is nothing close to perfect.

Still, they have a skill of making due with what they are given, and that's why he steals every chance at normalcy with them at the cost of his own work.

Time flies while he works, Jane returning with two content infants in hand just as he is testing the responses of his arm's fingers with a small electrical pulse on the circuits. If this doesn't work and they do not respond, then the arm will be useless when he puts it back on. He's already checked all other responses - sensory and cautionary responses, maneuverability, and input response from shoulder to wrist - while saving the most sensitive for last.

"How's it coming?" Jane steps down the steps, twin sets of hands gripping onto her shirt, Damocles even going so far as to chew on a button on her shoulder. "All fixed and ready for a fight?" She asks with a smirk and raises a brow, making him chuckle.

"At least you have confidence enough not to ask me if I've completely ruined it."

She shrugs and comes to watch over his shoulder. "I know better. Hell, I remember who was responsible for giving the Normandy the best fucking set of really huge, really powerful"- she pauses and smiles innocently -"guns." When he snorts, knowing full well where she was going, she gasps in mock hurt. If she could grip her chest in hurt, she would, but she'll just have to do with her sad lip tremble.

"You don't fool me," he says with an exasperated mandible flick, playing along. "We all know you only want me for my Thanix cannon."

He hears a hum of approval before feeling her kiss on his fringe. "You know it."

Turning his attention back to his work, he hears her talk soothingly to the twins as she heads back up the stairs - baby blanket Damocles had been sleeping with earlier in hand - and to the nursery. Everyone can say what they want about his mate, but she has proven to be a great mother despite the destruction she's brought so many who dare cross her. _Now, if only we can convince our children not to take after their mother in terms of vocabulary. Or, if they have to, not make it their_ _**first**_ _words?_

The thought of two tiny children with the vocabulary of their mother makes him chuckle, if a bit nervously. Oh, how the universe would fall to its feet.

Now, to test his hours long work on this damn arm. Before soldering the new wiring together, he needs to make sure the current is flowing- that there is no damage within the hand itself- and he really hopes he won't have to go to Rannoch missing an arm due to time constraints. It's not that the tech is too advanced, too far out of the ordinary from the work he had done on his visor and the like, but the weight on getting it right makes it so much more nerve wracking.

With a touch of two very vital wires - wires that mean functionality below the wrist or a limp hand - Garrus sighs in relief with he sees the hand jerk slightly. It's not much, but it's enough to boost his confidence on finish this time consuming repair. At least, he figures, it's good that the arm is so complex and its design so complicated because it makes it harder to break, rot, or malfunction. It will take a lot to damage it to this point again, and that's not something that Garrus plans on doing. _Won't be falling off any more cliffs, that's for sure._

One second of soldering and the two wires are secured, creating the connection between arm and hand. All his needs is to test the fingers and their reaction time before he can finally reattach an arm that he's actually come to feel naked without when walking through the ship. Just as he learned to get used to armor like a second set of plates, he has grown to think of the prosthetic as no different from his flesh and blood arm on the other side. Even if he tends to remove it while sleeping or relaxing in the Loft, it's the fact that he _can_ that means more than _not having the choice._

Closing the forearm panel and making sure it hisses, then clicks into place, Garrus rolls the prosthetic and reaches for the panel situation on the top of the hand. Said panels have all been hidden in a very ingenious manner within the design of having the distinct look of plates and hide in between. Where it merely looks like the plate on the top of his hand, it is actually a door to a compartment of wiring, hydraulics, and sensors that control and make up his hand. _Functionality and familiarity._

The wiring beneath the hand's panel don't look damaged at all upon first inspection, but he knows that only a real test of its electrical responses will tell if it's truly unaffected by the fall. He reaches up to the shoulder port, having taken it apart to directly manipulate the current that would usually be under the control of his own body and mind when the arm is in place. Feeling around for the wiring for his fingers isn't exactly easy without looking, so he leans over and finds them in the form of different colored wires with a different pattern of striping on them than wires for the rest of his arm's electronics.

First is the thumb as he touches the main control junction - that which will lock into his shoulder - with the blue wire with three tight stripes ended by a space before the pattern repeats. Touching them together gets an immediate reaction as the thumb moves, curling when the wires are touching and relaxing when apart. Next is the forefinger, which moves in much the same way as it curls against the table and relaxes, and, finally, he tests his last finger. At its reaction, he lets loose a proud rumble from his throat.

Were he not so humble, he'd perhaps use this very arm to pat himself on the back at the success. Hell, he thinks he deserves it anyways. Finding the secret compartments and repairing the damage with very few tools and, of those he had, ones that could have been higher quality wasn't easy. He won't in the end. Jane says his ego is big enough to have its own gravity as it is. Best not to give her more ammunition.

Garrus begins to tuck the wires gently back into the shoulder and upper arm of the prosthetic just as he hears Jane leaving the nursery. "Looks like you _have_ to hold my hand now," he says with a smile as he glances her way. "Now I don't have to chose between you or holding a weapon."

"Yeah?" Her happiness is youthful as she hurries to his side to watch him secure the port back into place, waiting for them both to hear the loud hiss of suction and it locking into place. "That's fucking awesome." Leaning over the back of his chair with arms draped over his shoulders, she kisses his cheek and he purrs in response as she says, "I was going to hold your hand whether you liked it or not, only now I don't have to fight you to put the weapon down."

He chuckles and nuzzles her cheek with his as he starts to put the tools within the leather wrap they came in. "Now I think I'd rather take my sniper or some other large weapon."

Snorting, she playfully pushes up and off him. "You won't hold my hand?" She holds a hand to her chest with a gasp of mock shock. "What will Tali think?"

"She already knows I use big guns."

Jane smirks and nods, looks off as if in thought. "Mmm… you definitely do."

He snorts and takes his arm, lining it up and pushing it into place. Testing his fingers and arm movement, he says, "I should have known that would lead to reference to my penis."

"When doesn't it?" Jane chuckles at his quizzical brow plate raise. "Okay, okay. Maybe not _all_ the time, but damn close."

She moves to grab the other half of his armor off the lounge's table and he takes the chance to pop his back, sitting all morning to lean over his work making it ache. He considers the fact that having a slight ache is better than the pain from the fall or the annoyance of the damn back brace.

"I've been thinking," his wife says as she first attaches the separate sleeve for his undersuit. "If we can figure out what the hell is wrong with the geth, maybe we can use it for EDI. Well, not _me_ , but maybe the quarians and Rym can work together." She huffs a laugh. "Hell, it would be nice to have Tali on board again, but I doubt she'd give up her chance to be on land after barely getting her homeworld back."

"You're probably right about that," he agrees as he tugs the glove on and adjusts the fingers to a good fit. Next is his gauntlet while Jane snaps on his upper arm guard. "Maybe whatever the geth have left of their coding can be combined with whatever Rym has scraped together of EDI. It would benefit both." She nods and he sighs, closing his eyes at the thought that, of course, comes unbidden. "Unless EDI can't come out of this completely the same…"

Jane frowns, stopping midway through locking in his shoulder armor. "Fuck… you're right." Her hands slide off his armor, defeated. "I could have been the one to, in essence, kill her. Sure, we can replace what's lost, but if she's not the same EDI?" Shrugging, she looks to the floor. "Then she's just another one of the crew we lost. Only, this time, I was the one to press the button."

"Hey," he chides softly, lifting her chin with his knuckle. "We all knew the cost. She was no different and we both know she would never have hesitated if she could have pressed that button herself." His hand shifts to cup her cheek. "She's not gone, yet. Have faith."

"You're asking me to have faith?" She scoffs. "That's a tall order."

"Perhaps," he replies with a purr and presses his forehead to hers. "But I know you never let a good challenge pass you by." That gets a lighter reaction as she rolls her eyes while pressing back. "Now, let's get on Rannoch and see how far along Tali is on her new home."

Rolling his shoulder, testing the weight of his reinstalled arm, he follows his wife as she picks up her weapons on the pass by them sitting on the Lounge table. He takes a moment to lock in his own weapons onto his armor before stopping at the nursery door as she waits for him further ahead, a knowing smile on her lips.

"Go ahead," she says softly with a jerk of her head towards the lift. "I'll hold the door."

"I won't be long," Garrus responds with a warm rumble, laying his hand on the console command and stepping in quietly. He's missed out on spending the morning with them thanks to his damn arm repairs, so he sees nothing that can keep him from giving a parting goodbye before he and Jane spend however long down on Rannoch trying to make sense of the geth situation.

The twins are bundled up in their cribs, the room lit by a dim glow from the darkened shelving. He can tell from the sounds of their rhythmically purring vocals that they teeter on the edge of the wakefulness and sleep, and he walks lightly towards them so as not to wake them completely.

"Hey, little one," he whispers with a rumbling breath to his daughter, smiling at her beautiful eyes as she looks up to him and stretches out a hand. "Try to get some sleep, my princess." Taking her tiny digits in his palm, he caresses the top of her knuckles with his thumb. "Mommy and daddy will only be gone a short time."

With a lean down, he nuzzles her forehead and leaves her to sleep without the stimulus of his presence to keep her awake. Next, he moves to his son's crib, knowing full well by the kicking shadow that it'll take more than a show of affection to get Damocles to sleep.

"Little man," Garrus says with a chuckle, tickling both feet with a thumb as he grabs and attempts to still them. His son giggles and grins happily before giving his feet a hard buck out of playful spite, but Garrus holds them steady. "You should be at least _trying_ to sleep." That only gets a babble of nonsense. "Uh-huh. Likely reason," he retorts playfully with a quick nuzzle to Damocles' head. "Sleep up and you can daddy can play when we get back. Would you like that?" No response beyond a purring chirp. Rumbling low and deep, both in tender care and urging to sleep, Garrus caresses his son's head as he whispers, "Sleep well, my son."

Any more interaction with the two will only wake them further, he knows. So it's with great reluctance that he finally steps out and returns to his wife's side as she holds the elevator door. She gives him a knowing smile and closes the gap between them as the lift slowly begins its trek down to the CIC, her hand taking his just as she 'threatened' to do. "They fall asleep yet?"

He snorts. "Would you believe me if I said 'yes'?"

"Of course not," she answers with a chuckle. "I know them all too well."

He chuckles softly and nods in agreement as they ride in a comfortable silence, hand in hand. As the lift slows to a stop and opens, they give Traynor a nod as they pass in both greeting and assurance of their leaving the ship and she smiles in return. Garrus would be lying if the majority of her happiness at their leaving stems from the fact that she can now log into the nursery monitoring system and keep an eye out for the time she can go upstairs and play with the twins. While it's nice to have so many around willing and wanting to pick up twin duties when he and Jane are dragged from their own children, it's sometimes as if the two of them are in a ship full of children all wanting and waiting to play with the infant twins onboard.

"Would you look at you," Joker says as they approach, swinging in his chair with a blatant look up and down Garrus and teasing grin. "Looks like the cripple is back to action. And with _both_ arms."

As Jane taps the airlock command, she snorts. Smirking wide, she nudges his side in view of Joker to mock whisper without actually lowering her voice. "Too bad he doesn't know what we were doing to keep you in that brace longer. _And_ just all the things you don't need two hands for."

"You better not have gotten anything on that back brace!" The pilot calls at their backs as they step into the airlock chamber, making Jane laugh and Garrus chuckle. "You might as well have thrown it out!"

"For a guy that watches porn at his station, that man sure has delicate sensibilities."

He snorts at his wife and cups her chin, lifting her head up to nuzzle her temple. "That's because he doesn't personally know those that he's watching."

Her eyes closed, she tilts her head in his touch to press a soft kiss to his chin. "We should trick him. Maybe film a porno with masks on or something and then _bam_ _ **,**_ it's us."

Chuckling, he shakes his head. "Not sure I like the thought of so many having the chance to see you as only I get to." He stops and thinks about the facts, humming as he adjusts his statement. "And that doesn't count changing into armor or the few times people walk in on us."

Her chuckles make his mandibles flick in amusement as she opens her emerald eyes and lifts a brow. "You mean you're okay with those close to us seeing me naked as the day I was born, but not the possibility of strangers? Since when?" At his rumble of question, she snorts and turns to him with a cocked hip. "You mean you don't remember the times we have sex out in public? Me thinks you _do_ want people to have the chance to see."

The doors are close to opening and, as much as he really wants everyone on Rannoch to be forever cursed with the mental image of the two of them rutting like teenagers on any available surface, he flicks his mandibles with an exaggerated sigh. "That's different-"

"How?"

"Because…" Damn, he didn't know today would turn into a trivia on sex adventures. How can he explain why some things are okay to his possessive brain but others not? "Because the thrill of 'accidental exposure' comes with the possibility of getting to defend my mate's honor?"

There is a long silence as she narrows her eyes in suspicion at that, contemplating his best answer, before she starts to laugh. "Wait, wait, wait," she says with a grin, waving her hand to stop him from interrupting. "Let me see if I get this straight. You like doing it in public because, if someone catches us, you get the chance to beat the shit out of someone?"

"Maybe?" He shrugs. "I don't know." Humming at her laughter, he takes her hand as she moves to step out of the opening airlock. "But I think it has more to do with the fact that I can lay claim and defend it too," he tries to better explain, feeling that fits more with what his little primal brain wants in those times.

Her chuckles are warm as she nods in understanding and takes his hand. "In that case, we should definitely have public sex with the possibility of getting caught more often. I think that'd be fun to watch."

"That's not my intention," he deadpans as she laughs and he follows her out and into the hot, crisp heat of Rannoch. He merely gets a soft huff of a laugh in response as she turns her attention out and over rocky outcroppings that are peppered with the growing footprints of the quarians' reclamation of this land.


	55. Chapter 55

Jane

A friendly face greets them as they step off the Normandy in the form of Ilden, Tali's apparent home contractor as well as already known boyfriend. Where in all the time knowing him did he change from assassin and hacker and get into construction Jane will never guess, but he carries a certain, happy glow. His work has to be hard, but it pales in comparison to the obvious love he has for it, in giving his love a real home here.

"Ilden," she greets with a smile, taking his hand and pulling him close to pat his back roughly in comradery. "Damn, is it good to see you." She steps back to let Garrus shake his hand. "I hear you've been busy."

He chuckles and motions to walk with him. "I must admit I never would have imagined myself here, and actually enjoying it." He smiles as Jane walks beside him, her mate holding her hand on the other side. "It is a nice change from all the violence we all had to go through. I never would have thought of building a home with my own hands, but it may be one of the best things to happen."

"Speaking of, how is the construction coming along?" Garrus asks as he looks around the docks at all the ships being disassembled.

It makes sense as the quarians, now finding themselves with a homeplanet, have more need of materials for homes and buildings than liveships. The geth surely wouldn't have been mining metals and manufacturing anything more than what they used for their own structures. Jane figures that they have retained their battle-ready fleet in the air as it would be naive of them not to, the resolution with the geth notwithstanding.

Ilden sees where their attention has gone and nods. "It was a long time before the Admiralty Board agreed to allowing engineers to take unused vessels apart for use in making homes. I think they still feared the geth turning on them." He frowns and adds as he drops his eyes to the ground, "I guess their fears came to fruition."

"That's why we're here," Jane corrects with a hand on his shoulder. "We will find a way to take out the heretics and maybe even find a way to fix what I fucked up when I pulled the kill switch on the Reapers." He looks to her in confusion before she shakes her head. "Long story."

"One that you shouldn't be blaming yourself for," Garrus adds with a squeeze to her hand.

"Yeah, yeah. I did what I had to. Doesn't feel any better," she says with a huff and takes a breath, closing her eyes, in attempt to push aside her guilt. Garrus knows she needs a motion to will her emotions into submission, but she's more thankful when Ilden simply nods looks over the building efforts.

When she collects herself, she blows out a heavy sigh and clears her throat. "Well, that shit is over with. Back to what you were saying?"

The drell looks to her, seeing the obvious falsehood of her words, but merely returns to his observing. "Tali is still a day behind you thanks to her efforts to convince the Council to return quarian liveships from the refugee transports. However, the Admirals wish to speak with you immediately concerning the geth heretics."

"Of course they do," she deadpans. "Spectres Vakarian, at your service to clean up all the galaxy's messes." Ilden hums and nods slightly as she gives noone a mock salute. "I'll be over the fucking moon when everyone gets their heads out of their asses."

"You'll be old and gray by then." She elbows her husband at that, glaring up at him.

"Keep that up and you won't live long enough to see that day." He chuckles, unphased as Ilden hides his smile behind his hand, pretending to clear his throat.

Her mate wraps an arm around her shoulders and pulls her closer to his side. She feels his gentle nip at her temple and knows it as it is - his own special version of a tender kiss. Maybe she'll forgive him thanks to that, but she'll have to think about it after reminding her she'll be one of those cranky, old grannies from the vids.

She can only hope she isn't cursed to wear the dreaded once piece nightgowns. That's just plain embarrassing.

Walking into the first block of temporary buildings - governmental and administrative by the looks of them - Jane smiles at the public sign of affection they can now openly express after so long of being cautious. It feels good to be touched without the fear of political backlash that could affect a war effort because of the stupidity of a fearful people looking for anything to lash out against. Leaning her head on the side of his chest plate, she squeezes his hand and only parts from him once Ilden stops at a large structure that reminds Jane vaguely of an amphitheater.

Tall pillars made of dark, smooth metal frame the threshold of a path down through the descending levels of seating. In the center, on the lowest level, is a raised platform with five podiums for each admiral of the Board. It's a shame Tali is not present to preside over this considering she's the best damn geth expert Jane knows, but she is pretty sure that this meeting is mostly to announce the issue and plan solutions. They wouldn't need her and Garrus if they knew how to get shit done by themselves.

"Where's the Admiralty Board?" Garrus asks as they come to a stop at the top of the stone steps. "You said they wanted to speak immediately."

Ilden nods and motions to the back wall of the amphitheater. "They are within the deliberation chambers." He starts to step down the stairs and the other two follow out of understanding. "I suspect they didn't want their meeting to be overheard by any passerby. I was told to escort you here. I won't be allowed in the chambers."

Garrus hums and says, "Make sense. A heretic resurgence could cause a wide-spread panic."

Jane nods in agreement as she looks up over the towering back wall. From this closer distance, she can see a distinct separation in the metal to the right side that must be the door to the chambers. It's not like she suspects onlookers to this meeting with the admirals, but if they're wanting caution, then she'll play along. Hell, the fewer gawkers, the better.

Ilden steps down the last step and leads them towards the few steps - _more fucking steps_ \- up to the platform. Garrus looks to her with a questioning rumble and she shrugs. She has no idea what the admirals will have to say beyond 'help us, please misses and mister Vakarian!'. There's also no telling how long it will take to come up with plans towards a solution. She and her mate have no clue how this entire geth situation got to where it is and they have no idea what the admirals expect them to say during this gathering. All they do is shoot things and blow shit up. However, if they're lucky, that might be just the reason they're joining this meeting, to be given a target and told to destroy it. _Fat chance_.

They stop at a dimly lit console on the wall where she had suspected was a door and Ilden turns to them, crossing his hands behind his back. "This is as far as I can go." He smiles and adds, "I would like to join you back to the Normandy. Maybe see the little ones?"

"I think Tali would be pissed you saw them before she got home." Jane chuckles and nods. "Sure. I can't tell you how long we'll be, but you can join us back at the Normandy to see the twins."

"They'd like that," her mate agrees with a smile.

"So would I." Ilden turns to the door before turning his eyes back to her. "I would wish you luck, but I know that's too much to hope for."

She snorts at his grin and rolls her eyes. "Thanks for that." Turning to the console, she lays her hand on the sensor. When it slides open to a small hall, she looks back and smiles. "If we don't make it out alive, tell Vega he can't adopt the kids."

Ilden chuckles and nods as Garrus smiles down to her. With a jerk of his chin, her mate asks a wordless question that she answers with a deep inhale and step into the hallway. Said hall is lined with hologram pictures of the construction efforts all over Rannoch and Jane can't help but to look at each in awe of how much the quarians have accomplished so far. It's as if Rannoch is an entirely different planet from what she saw before.

"Damn. They definitely got to work building this place."

"I'm not surprised," her husband responds, gazing at a picture of a set of homes being build on an outcropping overlooking the sea. "They have waited hundreds of years for this. It's only natural to want to settle here and not waste a second."

That thought reminds her of something and she chuckles. "I guess that means that, when we go to Tuchanka, the krogan will be doing nothing but fucking."

"That's all _we_ do, Jane."

Barking a laugh, she turns to him when they reach the only door in the hall at the far wall. "Alright. Let's try to pretend we're professional. The quicker this goes, the better."

"I think the saying is 'practice what you preach', Jane." She swats his chest plate with the back of her hand and scowls. "Ouch," he then deadpans and she swats it again. "You're so abusive."

"Smart ass. Why did I even marry you?"

Just as she's opening the door, he gets the final word with a "Because of my big-"

"Shepard, Vakarian," Admiral Raan calls out from beside a large display of terrain, raising a hand to catch their attention and successfully cut off Garrus' retort. "We were starting to wonder if you were delayed."

Jane shrugs as they make their way towards the others. She gives a nod to Admirals Koris and Reegar. Xen gets a glance, but Jane still holds the woman's views of the geth against her, so she will get no more acknowledgement unless needed to move along this gathering.

"Good to see you again, ma'am." Kal'Reegar offers a hand. "And you, sir." He then takes Garrus'.

"You're technically higher ranked than us, so you shouldn't 'ma'am' and 'sir' us," Jane replies with a chuckle, taking Koris' offered hand and shaking it.

"Apologies. Hard habit to break. With everything you both did, it's hard not to give you the proper respect." He returns to the large display as Jane and Garrus take their place between Raan and Koris.

"Shepard and Vakarian are good, then," she offers to the room and they nod. "Good." Leaning her hands on the table, she looks out over a readout of terrain, but becomes more interested in the form of what looks suspiciously like the Reaper they destroyed here. Around it are what looks like small structures. "Please tell me this isn't of importance."

Raan looks down and shakes her head. "We've reports of the heretic geth forming around the destroyed Reaper."

Xen nods and holds her hand over the readout, zooming into the structures and revealing them to be small towers similar to the AA gun stations they had to disable with Legion. Mention of that name sends a pang through Jane, but she forces herself to shake it off, looking to Xen to hear what she has to say.

"The geth-"

"Heretics," Garrus corrects with a terse tone, looking to the woman and she gives a slight, uncaring shrug.

"They believe that the Reaper holds the fragments of code that they have lost," she continues without falter, ignoring the interruption. "This is the only territory they hold here on Rannoch."

"Unfortunately," Admiral Koris begins, addressing her and her husband directly. "They have ships as well. As I'm sure you know after you alerted Tali to a heretic attack on a diplomat vessel."

Jane nods and leans up, looking to the rest of the admirals. "We rescued whoever we could from a wrecked ship that was attacked by what they thought were geth. I have a suspicion it was the heretics. Why? I was hoping you might know."

Admiral Raan shakes her head. "We don't," she says as she half turns to address the shadows behind her. "But we may know someone who does."

"You can't possibly want that thing involved in this," Xen protests with a scoff.

"It already is," Reegar says with a slight growl to his voice, this issue obviously a sour subject. There's only one thing that would get the Admirals up in arms and Jane considers that this could either go really wrong or really good. "Admiral Raan, I think we should introduce them."

As Jane looks to Kal'Reegar in question and hope for explanation, Raan opens her Tool to a comm. "Please allow the geth in."

 _Good to see the geth and quarians working together even after the geth lost their fully conscious and independent AI status like Tali had said._ Still, there was worry over the still tenuous relation between the governing body and 'old enemy'. There is the sound of a door sliding open from the darkness and, looking up, Jane sees the three glowing orbs of red high up in the shadows. _Holy shit… A Prime?_

Her shock is well deserved as a towering, battleworn Prime steps from the shadows. He - _do they even have female orientated programs? -_ flaps his head plates once before dipping his head. "Greetings, Vakarian-Spectres."

"Hey," Jane says, still a bit stunned at the sheer size of the geth, and moves to offer a hand. "Shepard is easier for everyone."

The Prime looks at her hand before taking it, unsure of the gesture and simply holding it before she releases. "Understood. We will alter our programming to your preferences."

"We have begun to address the matter of the heretics," Admiral Raan offers, gaining the Prime's attention as it shakes Garrus' hand. "Can you tell them what you have already told us?"

The Prime - _I will really need to help him come up with a name_ \- nods and steps towards the hologram, motioning the structures. "The heretics have begun to attempt to integrate Reaper coding with their own to regain complete sentience. They believe the inactive Reaper holds that which was corrupted along with the Reapers'."

Jane frowns and looks down at the hologram. "Yeah, about that-"

"Jane-"

Sighing, she glances to her concerned mate before running a hand over her head. "Alright, so they are bunching up around the Reaper. Is that how they're communicating? Sending out some signal like they did with the dreadnought?"

The geth adjusts his head plates before his facial lights dilate. "Yes."

"It was never able to communicate past the Relay when it was active." Xen crosses her arms. "Heretic ships are starting to attack vessels outside the system. Explain that."

"How do they have ships that do not show on our sensors?" Reegar asks, never once changing his stance of steady attention.

"The heretic hub will have this information." The Prime looks to Jane and her mate. "We offer assistance in acquiring this information."

She snorts and chuckles, raising a brow as she crosses her arms. "Why am I not surprised?" Glancing over the group, she sees the truth on every one of the admirals. "When were you planning on telling us?"

They look to each other before Admiral Koris decides to be the one to bite the bullet. "Your ship is the only one capable of the task. We can offer smaller fighters to destroy the AA towers protecting it, but we cannot close in on the main base."

"We will offer fighters to assist the creators."

Garrus hums in thought before looking to her. His look says enough to know that he's entirely against this idea, that they've done enough to help Rannoch, but what is she to say? 'Sorry, no. Go fuck yourselves'?

One look at her eyes and he knows his answer, his mandibles flicking in agitation before he turns to the geth Prime. "What will we call you?" He raises a hand to stop what he and Jane know he will say. "And you can't call yourself 'geth'."

The Prime seems at a loss for words as its facial flaps flutter numerous times. Jane decides to help out as she turns completely to it, lifting her eyes to look it in the three lights she will tell herself are the equivalent of eyes. "I might have an idea."

"We will accept any designation."

"The geth have put you forth to speak for them, yes? You are like an ambassador for them?"

"Affirmative."

She looks to her mate and smiles. There is so much that comes to mind listening to the geth, in learning its purpose and ultimate goal to restore its people to what they once were. Perhaps there is still a bit of Legion within every geth even now with them not at their full strength.

"Legacy," she says as she turns back to the Prime.

"We do not understand the reason for this association." The confusion is obvious from everyone in the room, organic and synthetic. The only one that seems to understand is her mate, though it may just be because he trusts in her judgment more than he gets her sporadic and often crazy way of thinking.

"You remind me of Legion. You want to better your people and restore their independence and individuality, make them greater and no longer in need of being a hive mind to function." She chuckles when she sees the understanding spread through the room. "You are Legion's Legacy. You are the geth's Legacy."

It's as if she can see the gears churning within the geth as he contemplates the thought. Finally, breaking the feeling that she may just be holding her breath in anticipation, he nods. "We accept this designation."


	56. Chapter 56

Garrus

The shuttle vibrates under Garrus' boots as it breaks through Rannoch's atmosphere. By the sounds of the comm chatter ringing from the cockpit, Cortez has a small window of safety between still active AA guns, but they can't wait any longer for the geth and quarian fighters to disable them. Not when they still have no idea if the heretics have ships near enough to turn the tables. As it is, there is already too many confirmed deaths piling up on the fighters' front.

If it were any other shuttle pilot, Garrus would question the possibility a successful drop. Cortez has proven himself more than capable - as if this were just a normal flight when compared to the dangerous transports during the war - and has won Garrus' hard to gain trust.

Looking around the shuttle cabin, he finds Bray checking his weapons religiously before looking up to give the turian a chin lift of confirmation. To his side, Rym types rapidly on her Omni-Tool, something she's been doing since first meeting her first geth and being assured he would answer any and all questions. Now, however, she is content to allow Legacy that moment of silent stillness Garrus has only come to believe as the geth programs coming to some kind of consensus. Of course, then there is Jane, his wife, on the seat before him.

She drums her fingers in some rapid rhythm within her head, eyes narrowed as she stares at the wall beside his shoulder. Seeming to feel his eyes on her, her eyes focus and she smirks at him. "Does it seem like some shitty deja vu to you?"

"You mean us fighting heretics again?"

"Exactly," she says emphatically as she throws her hands up. "It all started with heretic geth following this religion of theirs, then we had to fight them for Legion to try and rewrite them-" she looks to Legacy and adds, "- which obviously didn't do shit in the long run. Then we had to fight geth - not heretic, at least - before destroying that fucking Reaper, and here we are now." Pulling her lips into a tight line, she breathes heavily out of her nose. "I really fucking hate this full circle shit."

Trying to lighten her mood, he chuckles and stands as he begins to feel the shuttle slow. "Yeah, but then we wouldn't have that sense of familiarity."

She snorts, but takes his offered hand to stand. "I can happily do without it."

Legacy lifts his head flaps as it sits on the bench as best as his massive body allows. "We do not understand your anger. Your experience with combatting heretics lends to success in combat." The flaps fall with a click. "It would be illogical to request aid from those not versed on eliminating heretics."

"Legacy," she deadpans. "We really need to get you up to speed on organics and their intricacies."

Bray snorts. "I didn't think that word would ever come out of _your_ mouth."

"Why? Too busy imagining things going _in_ it?" Jane retorts with a smirk as it makes him sneer at the visual. Garrus, on the other hand, hums at her with brow plates drawn down in irritation. "What?"

"That's not something I want _anyone_ imagining you doing," he explains and she merely snorts, bumping her shoulder to his.

"Tell me you do it more often and I won't have to go to others to get that attention."

"Like you'd stop." Still, he rumbles and relaxes his facial expression at her playful smile. Leaning down, he nudges his forehead to hers. "Besides, you always laugh at any attempt at dirty talk."

"You just…suck _so bad_ at it."

"If either of you starts trying to prove the other wrong, I'm going to Overload you both," Rym interrupts with a lift of her open Tool.

Bray snorts at her and looks back to Garrus and his wife. "I'd just shoot you."

"Injury between allied members would only impede-"

" _Thank_ you, Legacy." The geth looks to Jane before nodding at this dismissal of unneeded explanation. It's a good sign towards the Prime slowly learning organic interaction and Garrus wonders, with some sadness, if that's in part to Legion's sacrifice to disperse his knowledge to his people. _Part of him will always remain within every geth, it seems._

Their two squadmates return to their work for a last check just as Cortez alerts them to their arrival and the shuttle hatch begins to unlock and slide open. Legacy stands, bent over, and walks to drop out first. The distance down is still too high to be safe for them - well, maybe not Jane given her prosthetics - but Legacy can clear the area so they don't drop into open fire without cover.

As the geth disappears in a flash of red, Garrus moves to the entrance of the shuttle to drop next when able and takes the safety handle hanging from the ceiling. Jane motions Rym to go next with her hands before giving another gesture to command Bray to take up the back. As they take position, the sound of gunfire drifts up to their ears in silent warning to get weapons ready.

Taking out his rifle, he shifts impatiently on his feet and glances over the edge to see Legacy slowly advancing to a position to provide cover to the shuttle. With the all clear from Cortez for a safe drop, the squad moves fast as they drop in formation. Garrus is first to hit ground and immediately moves forward as he raises his rifle, letting his new Leviathan caused instincts take in.

One heretic goes down at Garrus' shot as it rounds a large rock with intent to focus on Legacy's drone. The heavy thud of Rym's feet announce her landing just before Garrus catches glimpse of an Overload lighting up another to the left and he drops another. He knows Jane's landing from the streak of blue flying across the field in front of his scope in the same instant that another heretic falls to his weapon as she charges directly into the battle at Legacy's side. Bray is the last to drop and throw a grenade to buy the three of them in the back an opening to get to cover and give Garrus the chance to reload as he moves.

He climbs on top of his own cover and lays down, propping his weapon up to take down a rival Prime's drone down before it targets his wife. She continues as if nothing happened, working on her trust in him to cover her back, as she pushes towards the right to give Bray the opening they need to move forward. Legacy covers the left with his drone as he focuses on the frontward assault. All the while, the massive Reaper looms just down the field.

Resistance is strong, but they slowly make their way towards the heretic structures that look unnervingly like spires of Reaper design. When there is a break in combat that allows Garrus to move up, he gives himself a moment to look up at the Reaper itself to compare and is shocked when he finds destruction over its hull that definitely wasn't there when it was taken down. _Are they taking it apart?_

 _ **What?**_ His wife's voice echoes through his mind as she glances his way from her own cover and his destination. _**Taking what apart?**_

 _Look at the Reaper._ He slides into her cover and motions in reassurance that he'll cover her while she peeks out to see what he hopes he doesn't actually see.

"Holy shit…"

" _What?"_ Bray's voice comes over the comm, rough from a huff as he slams his back down against his cover up ahead.

"Ignore her, Bray," Garrus orders, watching Jane wince at her mistake before spinning her cover and charging forward. "It's not immediate. Clear the field."

" _Good, because here I thought it was something important."_

 _ **Smart ass**_. " _Pay attention before I shoot you,"_ Jane says as her shotgun echoes through the crisp Rannoch twilight. " _By accident, of course."_

" _Shepard and Vakarian-Spectres, we do not detect any incoming reinforcements."_

Garrus scans the field to count seven heretic geth remaining before nodding and sighting down a sniper taking the rear. "Understood. Take them down."

_**I love when you talk dirty.** _

He hums in acknowledgment before pulling the trigger, the sniper's optical unit shatters and it falls limp. Another two fall to Legacy's plasma shotgun and two more to his drone and Rym's combined efforts. The last two go to Jane and Bray each as he tosses a grenade at one's feet and she uses her biotics to rip out the last's optics - along with some vital looking tech.

"That's the last of them. Bag 'em and tag 'em," Garrus announces over the comm as he reloads his heat sink and comes around his cover, heading towards the rest.

"Damn," Rym says as he arrives, her eyes looking over Legacy's drone in apparent awe. "I need one of these."

"We can assist in manufacturing a combat drone to your specifications." Legacy recalls said drone to her disappointment, but she gives a nod in agreement. "Shepard-Spectre," he continues as he looks to her, then Garrus. "Vakarian-Spectre. We must access the main heretic hub before reinforcements arrive."

His wife nods and motions to lead. "I have no clue where we're going, so I hope you do." He nods and begins to move towards the Reaper and heretic base. "Did they really take apart that bastard to make this place?"

Bray and Rym both make their own noises of surprise as they look up and reach the same conclusion. Legacy nods once as his head flaps undulate. "The heretics used the hull of the Reaper for its structural integrity to protect that which is most valuable. This hub contains all heretic programs not operating within a platform."

"Why only one hub?" Rym asks.

"Because any more on Rannoch would be unsafe," Garrus explains as he keeps a constant eye on their surroundings. "There's no doubt of more being on their ships, but they don't have big enough territory to protect any other hubs. Not while there are quarians and geth both on Rannoch and working together to stop them."

"Hence why they protected this damn place so heavily." Jane scowls at the Reaper as they weave their way deeper into the open air building the heretic geth constructed. "Let's make sure the geth and quarians we heard on the comms taking hits haven't died in vain. We'll take down whatever is here and kick these heretic assholes' fucking asses for trying to bring back a Reaper in any capacity."

Bray nods and grins, his pointed teeth shadowed in the dying sunlight. "Sounds like a good enough idea to me."

Their footsteps make a hollow thud on the ground made of Reaper and its odd sound seems to put those not used to the sound on edge. They are fortunate to still have that unease as it only reminds Garrus that they were spared the very possible death he and Jane faced with their crew on that derelict Reaper. Rym and Bray may have seen many horrors in the war, but being within the enemy and knowing its power over minds is a whole new nightmare.

"Legacy," Jane says, her voice sounding dull as it hits the beams and half walls of the structure and seems to just stop. "How much further? This place is bringing back some shit."

Suddenly, the massive geth stops at a smooth, unassuming dead end and turns around. "We have arrived at the heretic main hub."

Garrus rumbles in confusion and looks to his wife as she leans around Legacy to get a look. "You okay, there, buddy?" She raises a brow and looks up at him. "Because that is just a wall."

Legacy lifts his facial plating before lowering them and turning to let them see said wall. To Garrus, there seems to be nothing of importance, nothing to denote a vessel for the heretic collective. Still, he is willing to hear the geth out as he walks towards the wall and runs his fingers over its surface. "The heretics have installed their programs within the Reaper structure."

"Welp," Jane says, shaking her head and turning around. "Sounds like we're blasting this thing. No way we're taking that risk of this fucking thing to actually be able to, I don't know, come back from the fucking dead."

"Shepard-Spectre, readings of the Reaper platform show no signs of activity. Its condition is irreparable as it lacks all coding."

Legacy shifts as he hooks his fingers into a piece of the hull that the heretics have obviously removed in their work, and lifts it from the wall. Beneath is a console familiar to those Garrus has seen before whenever they've come across geth tech, but it holds many differences that show how much of the Reaper that went into it. It's unnerving to be so close again and see within the monster, to say the least.

Jane snorts, shaking her head as she paces behind them. "This is a bad fucking idea."

"Legacy is right," Rym says as she looks back to her. "He allowed me to look at his own coding and, compared to EDI, neither has any trace of code that could be Reaper."

Garrus now shakes his head. "That's not the only thing." He looks up at the Reaper as best he can with the beams overhead. "Someone once said 'even dead gods can dream'. The heretics think this thing still had _something_ in it, but we won't know unless Legacy puts himself in danger trying to interface with their hub."

The geth Prime turns from where he has been tapping out commands on the now lit console. "Without interfacing, we cannot properly obtain the fragments of code the heretics possess. We will not be able to modify our own to repair the corruption in our programming."

Jane sighs loud and runs a hand over her head. "Fuck… Yeah, I know." She looks out towards where they came before nodding. "Alright. Go in there and figure out what you can and get whatever shit they have that you need." Walking to the group, she checks her weapon before looking up to Legacy. "We'll cover you if any reinforcements show up, but put a rush on it."

Legacy nods and returns to the console, pulling on a plating of the Reaper hull to reveal another terminal beside a set of interface pods that bring back memories of their mission during the war in which they had to disable communications to a geth squadron. They lack the front panel, though, and one still has a heretic occupant, but Legacy pulls the platform easily enough and, given its lack of programs installed, it falls motionless to the side.

"We will access the heretic consensus to obtain the means of communication among the heretics. We will then retrieve the heretic coding before disconnecting." Legacy climbs into the pod and the others watch as lights along its side begin to illuminate. "The heretics will most likely send reinforcements to protect this central server."

Garrus nods and turns to the others, getting a nod from his mate and a shift to attention from the other two. Or, at least, an equivalent. Looking around once he has their attention, he scouts the area. The heretics have built their structure to ultimately converge on this spot, putting it at the center rear. They won't have to worry about being caught from behind, but that leaves their sides and front to worry about. With the open-air design, they have a very unlimited line of sight in all directions, but also little viable cover.

"We don't have much cover besides these pillars and half walls," he says as a hum sounds to Legacy joining the collective. "It lets us keep an eye on the enemy advance, but also leaves us open. Bray and Rym, I'm going to have you both focus on our left and right, respectively. I'll cover our front while Jane works on thinning out numbers if they overwhelm one side."

"Sounds good to me," Jane agrees as she rolls her shoulder.

"I'll take the right," Rym adds and Bray grunts before heading left.

Garrus is just about to open his Tool to see if he can pick up signatures when he hears a hiss behind them. All attention turns back toward Legacy stepping from the pod. "That was fast," Garrus says with a rumble of confusion. "What did you find?"

"We have discovered the source of the heretic's fleet communications." He waits until the others draw closer before continuing. "They are using the Reaper to facilitate long range communication between servers."

"Just fucking great. Can you stop it?"

Legacy flicks his facial plates at Jane's question, stating, "The heretics recognize our programs' existence within the consensus. The percentage of success collecting their portion coding while simultaneously transferring a virus program to eliminate any further programs that interface from the fleet is 45.6 percent."

Bray whistles loud as Jane curses, leaving Garrus to be the one to make deductions. "What about one task only? Does the percentages rise?"

Legacy nods and Garrus' mate speaks, denying the geth the chance to do the actual math. "Then destroy the fucks and we won't have a heretic problem. You can do that, right?"

"Yes." Legacy ducks his head a fraction as his head flaps slowly lift and fall. "But we would be unable to collect the coding that the geth no longer have. We will be unable to upgrade ourselves."

"And you all wouldn't be whole again." She sighs and rubs her brows. "Now what? Can you distract them or something? Disguise yourself?"

The Prime seems to contemplate that before nodding once. "When we collect the coding data, the heretics will develop a firewall to prevent us from further accessing the server."

"The geth and heretic thinking are too alike," Rym says. "Even with missing pieces, they have many similar code segments, so they can't trick each other. They can't adapt in a way that the other side would not expect."

Garrus hums in thought. "Would an outside hack work?"

"Negative," Legacy answers, his voice almost carrying a hint of sadness and defeat. "An organic cannot react and adjust programming to account for heretic defenses. Direct interface is required."

Jane snorts. "Yeah. That's not really going to happen. Organics don't work that way."

"All except one," Garrus corrects softly, rumbling as the memories the sight of the pods brought return. Seeing his mate's confused eyebrow lift, he chuckles and motions to the pod. "Don't tell me you don't remember my trip with Legion into the geth consensus. I'm the only one that can go in after David Archer."

Remembrance hits her hard as her eyes widen and mouth drops open. In an instant, she is scowling and shaking her head, firm in her refusal. "Hell no. You're not going in there."

"Jane-"

"That is attached to a Reaper!" Her hand flies up to motion the thing. "When you went into the fighter hub with Legion, you weren't hooking into a Reaper. You weren't having to deal with anything Reaper, then."

"There was Reaper code there too, Jane. Remember?" Only realizing too late that wasn't exactly explained to her in complete detail, he cringes.

"What?!"

"Uh, guys-"

Garrus rumbles in apology. He forgets how much Jane ignores or doesn't remember concerning tech and the like when it doesn't necessarily pertain to the immediate task at hand. He could have sworn she knew about the Reaper code he had to help Legion clean up. "Jane, look-"

"Shepard-"

"Well, now you're _definitely_ not going in there."

"Shepard!" Bray shouts angrily and their heads snap to him, about to ask what's so important when Garrus' eyes land on movement in Rym's Omni-Tool radar. "We have incoming. And fast. So quit your marriage troubles and get ready."

Properly scolded, Jane gives Garrus a last glare in warning before rushing into cover just as heretic geth come into their sights. Garrus, however, knows an opening when he sees it.

Holstering his rifle and turning off his comm, he looks to Legacy and motions the pods. "Will it work? Can I do one thing, you the other, and both make it out?"

"The possibility of success is 95.6 percent."

Still not what he wants to hear, but he knows that a geth would never reach a hundred percent on anything, he nods. "Good enough. Let's hurry."

Rushing to the pod before weapons fire can turn on him and Legacy, Garrus climbs into one of the pods and lays back. He doesn't really like the sensation he knows is coming, but he knows that, if they manage this, they will have given the geth and EDI a fighting chance at returning to normal and get the Council off their back about the heretic attacks. _What was it Jane says, one stone and two birds?_

 _ **It's killing two birds with one stone**_ **.** He can hear her amusement over their link and hopes she doesn't look back to find out what he's doing. Just a few meters separate them and he really doesn't want to put her in danger if her worry gets the best of her and she gets into the pod to force him out. _**Wait…**_

Cursing himself for forgetting she can hear his thoughts in high stress situations, he is not shocked that she turns around and her eyes narrow. "Garrus! You fuck!" Avoiding bullets flying at her, she hops a low wall and comes skidding before his pod. "Get your ass out of there. _Now._ Before I pull you in."

"Jane, I'll be fine. I promise," he soothes with a purr and flick of his mandibles. "Trust-"

"Vakarian-Spectre, desist any movement while interfacing with the consensus."

"I do trust you, you asshole bastard," Jane says with a frown, hands clenching at her sides as his vision begins to blur. "This isn't over. I'm still kicking your ass when you get out."

 _I wouldn't want to miss that._ He tries to deadpan in his thoughts, but he isn't sure it's coming across.

"Come back…" Her words muffle as a shout calls her attention back to the battle and, just before his vision fades, he sees her look back to him. He isn't sure if his face manages to give her the reassuring smile as he intended when he finally enters the weightless existence within the consensus.


	57. Chapter 57

Garrus

When Garrus opens his eyes, he finds himself in a place far from the expected. Where Legion guided him through a world of stairways that manifested below his feet as he drew nearer to every tangle of data within the geth consensus, he now finds himself in some dreamscape of altered perspectives.

He stands within a sort of hall, ceiling and walls open to the sight of a towering structures of sleek, gleaming stones polished smooth and metallic. He immediately recognizes it as the historic district of Cipritine, the most noticeable proof the large stained glass dome of the capital building he remembers none too fondly after many months trapped within under the weight of politics.

Below his feet is nothing but a dark sky, stars of constellations from his memories twinkling beneath a blanket of building clouds and his mind reels. Any other time he'd find himself in this situation, he'd be surrounded by the weightlessness of zero gravity - not to mention the lack of oxygen. Instead, he finds his boots on solid nothingness and his untouched home above his head and beyond reach and, before him, a distant light at the end of an eternal stretch of this disorienting path.

"Legacy?" He calls out, lifting a foot and lightly nudging the space in front of him to find it just as firm. "What is this place?" Though he cannot see the geth, he knows Legacy is all around him, programs divided, yet unified in their goal to retrieve their needed data. "It looks different from what Legion showed me."

"We have created a visual representation of the geth in order to offer familiarity."

"Yeah, 'familiarity'." Garrus hums in confusion as he takes another hesitant step. "Remind me to talk to you about your definition of 'familiar' as it relates to organics."

"Noted." The turian snorts at that and reaches out towards the upside down horizon of Palaven. "Vakarian - Spectre, we cannot predict the outcome of deviating from the designated path."

"Noted," he mimics the geth with a chuckle. Pulling his hand back slowly, his mandibles flutter as he looks around out of habit for someone or something to speak to. "You're going to have to explain what I'm supposed to do here because I have no clue. Legion handed me a gun and told me to shoot infected connections to the server."

He looks around as he begins to feel something under his chin, like drops of cold water. Below him, the clouds have built into a heavy, dark shroud and rain begins to pour up - _down_ \- and over his armor and face in the weirdest feeling he's ever felt. Shaking his head to keep droplets from his nose, he starts to walk towards the light and his only marker in this abstract setting.

"We have devised a plan for transmitting the virus," Legacy says, voice in Garrus' ear as his own feet make no sound. "There is a physical manifestation that must be activated."

Garrus understands immediately what needs to be done and what that light in the distance represents. With this knowledge, he begins to pick up the pace. He still walks with caution, but he is starting to forgo the hesitance as he begins to imagine their time within this server is short before the heretic geth begin to suspect. He doesn't really want to think about what could happen to an organic when and if that happens.

It feels as if he is covering no ground - sky - but the growing light at the end of this illusion speaks otherwise. Hopefully, once he reaches it, his task will be easy to determine and something he can accomplish alone. Legacy didn't really see fit to give him any tools, so Garrus will have to make due without.

The rain falls - rises - heavier around him, soaking through his gloves and undersuit, the closer he draws onto what he can now see as something similar to an Eezo core. He can't say it exactly the same - not with the massive metal ring holding it suspended before him - but it's the closest to describing the orb of white light.

Stepping closer to the orb, he reaches for its surface. Where he would imagine nothing but heated air, his gloved fingers dip into some sort of gel-like substance that sucks at his fingers when he moves to pull away. "Legacy? Is this it? The virus?"

"Yes."

Rumbling as he looks at his glove, seeing nothing, Garrus steps back to look up at ring that encircles it. The entire orb itself is no bigger than his wife, but the massive cradle - which he now sees is made of at least three thick bands - easily makes it stand taller than himself. Each band is intricately carved with tiny symbols he remembers from the quarian ruins of Haestrom and he runs his fingers over them, only to be bombarded by the screeching of geth clicks and chirps.

It sends him back, hands to his head as he groans. The din softens and begins to fade when his fingers lift from the metal. Growling as he shakes the ring in his ears, he huffs in exasperation.

"If it's not one thing screaming at me, it's another," he jokes as he hesitates with his hand above the dark metal. "Let me guess, I have to get these moving."

"Yes," Legacy says, his voice echoing through the empty space. "We suggest haste as the heretics may begin to suspect our intrusion and begin to modify their programming. The virus must be released before they are able to predict its release and targeted coding."

 _And I don't want to be here when that happens._ Nodding in understanding, Garrus takes a deep breath to prepare himself before laying both hands on the rough metal and pushing. Geth 'speech' assaults his ears, making his head pound, but the bands don't budge, seeming to push back the more weight Garrus puts into his push.

He groans in both pain and frustration, shifting to press his shoulder against the ring. His boots slide over nothing but wet air for the first try, but soon catch onto whatever ground is holding him from floating into space and he starts to growl as he uses his entire body and all the force he can muster.

A dull, but building, pain radiates through his shoulder and crawls down his spine as the rings creak. His mind swears that he feels a bit of a give to his ministrations, but his body adamantly refuses, insisting that the only thing he is succeeding at is ensuring he'll be feeling his failure through aching muscles and spine for days. If the damage done here transfers to reality, Garrus is sure to be ordered off missions to recover and he is sure as hell he won't follow those orders while he mate goes without him.

His vocals grind and he groans audibly as his ears surprisingly begin to hear the faintest of creaks, the grinding of some hidden gears whispering. Miraculously, the rings start to give to his full strength and he snarls as his thighs scream in pain, muscles beneath his guards clenching hard as stone. A whirring comes to life as he gains ground, foot stepping over the other to keep momentum.

He only takes a few steps, moving to round the glowing orb, when his pushing seems to hit the sweet spot and the metal beneath his shoulder begins to move faster than he can push. Gaining speed, he jumps out of the trap presented and trills in awe as three rings move simultaneously, twisting around each other in different directions and creating a constantly moving cage to the steadily growing star within.

"Viral infection uploading," Legacy echoes through the empty space around the turian. "Vakarian-Spectre, we advise immediate termination of interface."

"If only I knew how," Garrus deadpans back as he backs away from the blinding light, lifting an arm to shield his eyes.

"We have begun to sever the connections."

Just as he opens his mouth to ask what that actually means for his own situation and how he'll know when to prepare for the moment of being pulled out, he begins to feel the most peculiar sensation and immediately knows it isn't good. It starts with the quick - almost unnoticeable - feeling of weightlessness before he is falling _up_ and towards the surface of Palaven. A air is sucked from his lungs as his mind battles to understand the sensation of crashing against what it knows is normal and he closes his eyes for the inevitable.

" _Dammit! Take that fucking sniper out!"_

Garrus comes to with a gasp, eyes snapping open as he jerks awake and nearly falls from his pod if not for his hands unconsciously grabbing for the edges of the compartment. His head snaps to the sound of gunfire closest to him before his eyes completely focus, moving to join the battle before the haze in his mind has completely washed away.

Jane is closest to his position by only a few meters, lifting a geth from across the field just as a glimmer in the air moves too close, too quickly. She has enough time to take a step back - Garrus watching in anger as his damn weapon take that single, too long second to extend - before the heretic Hunter appears and swings its weapon to melee.

The hit connects with Jane's chest and she goes down to a knee just as Garrus Overloads the Hunter shifting to finish her off. The heretic geth releases a mechanical screech as it steps back to shake off the electronic attack and he makes it to his mate, grabbing her and pulling her with him behind cover. She moves without hesitance, faithfully trusting in his direction as he would if their positions were reversed. The Hunter takes only a moment to adjust to the Overload before it clicks and raises its weapon, cloaking, preparing to take position to flank them.

 _Mind handing me your weapon?_ Jane snorts, but hands her weapon over and ducks from cover to Pull another geth. He does the same, but focuses on searching for the subtle hint of visual distortion. The shotgun in his hand feels awkward and heavy, but he shifts his finger to the trigger just as he catches the cloaked Hunter drawing in on their nine. _Duck._

His mate drops to the ground with a thump and Garrus pulls the trigger, knocking the Hunter from hiding. It screeches as he fires again and the metal plating from its head fly off, optical lights shattering. It takes another step before collapsing at their feet, glowing within its body flickering before dimming completely.

Handing her weapon back, Garrus nods in quick thanks as Legacy slowly advances, sending his drone on those heretics he isn't mowing down with his weapon. As Garrus picks his weapon up from where he threw it behind cover, he glances over his shoulder and cover to a surprising sight.

Instead of the organized and methodical assault he knows all geth - even heretics - for, these geth have started to lose focus and direction, no longer collecting data and adjusting their tactics to the battlefield. Geth fighters just charge into battle, even directing into fire without releasing a single round from their own weapon. Then he understands.

They did it. Legacy's virus is working.

"About damn time," Jane grunts as she recoils from a blast of her shotgun, wincing. Garrus doesn't even need to ask her to know the Hunter left a mark. By the looks of her, however, it doesn't seem to be a serious injury.

Not that she would let it on if it was.

_You're hurt._

_**No shit, Sherlock.** _

_Looks like I have ammunition against you when you get after me about the consensus thing._ That gets him a glare and he smirks with a shrug of his shoulders. _It's true. You were careless._

"I should shoot you right here. No one would know."

Chuckling, he peers around cover and drops a staggering enemy Prime, it's arm already gone and drone sparking. As it falls, Garrus sees Rym already examining the remains on her side of the field as Bray shoves a heatsink into his weapon, grinning in victory. Jane stands at his side, giving a nod in 'good work' to Legacy as he turns to scan the field.

"Good fucking work," She says as she shoulders her shotgun and walks towards the others, stopping at the Prime first. "So, I take it this was your doing?"

Legacy tilts his head in consideration before nodding once. "Yes. The heretics within the immediate vicinity will begin to self terminate in attempt to combat the virus."

"Can they alter their programming before then?" Rym asks as she carries a Prime arm under an arm. What she plans with it, Garrus can only guess.

"Negative." Flaps flick on the Prime's head. "We have downloaded their alternate coding and sufficiently deleted all connections to backups. The heretics can no longer modify their programming."

"Damn. That's brutal." Garrus' mate chuckles with a shake of her head, turning to the entrance of the structure and motions to move out. "Did you manage to find information on the location of this heretic fleet attacking ships?"

"Yes."

Jane lifts a brow as Garrus hums in exasperation. It will definitely take time to get used to speaking with a geth not versed in organic conversations. "Care to tell us?" he asks and Legacy lifts its head panelling.

"We cannot speak of our findings without the creators' attendance."

"Wonderful." His mate sighs and rolls her eyes up in frustration. "Story of our lives. Never part of the big decisions and only told what to do and where to point our guns."

The geth lowers his flaps. "Have we angered you?"

"No. Not really." She shrugs as she nods to Bray to contact the shuttle. "We're used to this kind of bullshit, but there's a saying. 'Don't shoot the messenger', so we're cool."

Legacy is quiet a moment and - predicting his response - Garrus explains. "Her anger is not directed at you."

Red 'eyes' look between him and his wife before Legacy seems to see what he needs and nods. "We understand."

They are all quiet, Rym lost in her find and Bray staring up at the massive Reaper corpse as Legacy withdraws to internally examine what he drew out of the consensus. In the still moments of waiting for Cortez to bring the shuttle to them, Garrus steps closer to his mate with a low rumble, speaking softly. "Where are you hurt?"

"Really? That's the first thing you say?" She raises a brow as her lips thin in irritation. "No 'Hey, about going into that geth shit alone even though you said no'?"

He sighs heavily, rubbing his forehead plate. "You know it was the only thing to do." Snorting, he drops his head and flicks a mandible. "And, since when have I ever listened to you when you say 'no'?"

He sees her internal battle as she looks out over the horizon. It wasn't so much as a demand from her, but a plea against her fear of what still remains of the biggest monsters the galaxy has ever known. He understands it, he truly does, and, in her place, he'd probably put up a bigger fight against it if the positions were switched. He knows her enough to see that the anger in her eyes is not for him, but the circumstances that continuously put them at these kinds of odds.

 _We're still fighting this damn war and will for as long as we live_ , he realizes with a rumble of sadness as he, too, looks out into the horizon and the sounds of the approaching shuttle drown out the silence.


	58. Chapter 58

Garrus

They don't even have time to do more than dock with the Normandy before Legacy ushers them towards the amphitheater and urgent meeting with the Admiralty Board. Experience is enough to tell them that whatever has the geth Prime moving with such purpose is bound to ruin their day - and probably send them into another mission. No need to remove armors if that's the case.

"Legacy, will you slow the fuck down?" Jane scowls as she trots to keep up with the Prime's larger strides. "Some of us have armor slowing us down."

"And shorter legs," Bray adds with a chuckle and smirk at her responding glare.

"One more of those and I'm sending you out the airlock with a boot up your ass."

Garrus hums and only adds to the lightened mood, not one to miss an opportunity when he sees it. "Then you'd be even shorter without it."

His mate throws up her hands and speed up to pass them, running beside Legacy as she grumbles. Happy to see her mood shifted from the angry sulk in the shuttle thanks to his foray into the geth server, Garrus nods in a thanks to Bray at his side and could swear he sees understanding in the nod he receives back.

Their feet storm down the stadium stairs two at a time to the sound of heavy bootsteps and clanging armors. There is a sort of blessing in the lack of any quarian civilians being around to see them for there'd definitely be suspicion. Add to that the quarian people's numerous negative experiences concerning the geth and there is a very real possibility that panic could spread. It'd be a shame to see such a peaceful cooperation on Rannoch spoiled by misinformation and assumption.

Legacy moves to the secured door that leads to the Admiralty Board's chambers and stops, turning to the group. "Spectres-Vakarian and Shepard's crew must stay behind. Access by those not approved by the Admiralty Board is prohibited."

He looks to Garrus and his mate and she sighs, looking to their squad. Bray holds up a hand to stop her from saying anything. "It's cool. Rym and I would rather sit out here staring at quarian architecture than sit in a diplomats' meeting."

"Lucky you," Garrus deadpans before turning and following Legacy into and down the long hall, entering the large board room.

All Admirals, Tali included, stand around the holographic display of the now defunct heretic facility at the base of the Reaper. Garrus nods in greeting to Tali when she gives both that crescent eyed gesture he knows as a warm smile. The girl gives a nod and smile to his wife before Admiral Raan looks between the members of the assault team.

"Legacy, what's happened? What have you learned?"

The massive geth steps forward and holds his arm over the hologram, switching it quickly to a fleet everyone instantly recognizes as the heretic fleet thanks to the massive gunship in the center. "The heretic fleet has mobilized and has chosen Rannoch as its destination."

Gasps fall from Raan, Tali, and Koris as Kal'Reegar looks intently at the image. Xen, on the other hand, simply shakes her head. "Did you at least get us the reason the fleet is active so far from the main server," she asks with a tone that just radiates a sneer Garrus doesn't need to see to know exists.

"The heretic dreadnought have a secondary server," Legion responds, zooming the image on the dreadnought. "They plan to restore the now inactive server's data from its own."

"So all that shit would have been for nothing." Jane sighs and crosses her arms, leaning a hip on the hologram console. "And why couldn't you tell us this beforehand?"

"We could not discuss matters concerning the creators' safety in an unsecured location. It was possible that, should our findings be disclosed outside of secured quarters, the peace with the creators could be endangered."

"Legacy." Tali takes on a soothing tone, wringing her hands. "You can trust Shepard and Garrus."

"Enough about what done and gone," Admiral Koris interrupts, drumming his fingers on the console, his movements jittery. He's afraid, worried for his people who have lost so much to know face more casualties when their regrowth has barely begun. "How close are they?"

"We estimate that they will be entering the Relay momentarily."

The loud slam of a fist on the projector that sends the image to static masks any audible gasps, chokes of disbelief, and Garrus' own surprised trill as Jane curses. "God fucking dammit!-"

"Heavy Fleet, this is Admiral Kal'Reegar," The Admiral steps aside, hand to his Tool to open the comm. "Mobilize all armed and shielded ships. Deploy and prepare to defend Rannoch at all costs."

Something is said over his comm that goes unheard as Jane continues to shout at the Admiralty Board and Legacy. "Who came up with the _smart_ idea to keep things so quiet that we don't know they're coming until they're already living up to shove it in our asses?"

"Commander Shepard-"

"I'm not a fucking Commander," she says, scowling and jerking a hand to wave off Admiral Raan's explanation. "You're all a bunch of fucking grade-a geniuses. You all should know the geth take everything so seriously until they learn how to make judgement calls. Now is not the fucking time to expect massive code rewriting to think that, dipshits." Looking to Legacy, she points a finger at the heretic fleet's image. "Send your geth ships with the Heavy Fleet."

"He can't," Garrus finally says after a moment of thought, humming as he stares at the hologram before looking to the Prime. "There is a risk of infection, isn't there?"

Legacy nods. "Yes."

"I'm not surprised," Admiral Xen crosses her arms, taking with a shake of her head. "The geth are in such a scattered state that each platform only runs an amount of programs to function at the most basic levels."

"Meaning they'd have to have an open channel to work in a formation to assist the Heavy Fleet. Keelah," Tali whispers as she ducks her head. Command still does not rest easy on her shoulders and Garrus rumbles in understanding, laying a hand on her shoulder.

"We can call in the Normandy. Its cannons are fully functional." He looks around the room and nods to his seething wife, seeing her eyes lock with his and the heat lesson by a mere fraction. We figures he can work with that.

He still doesn't appreciate the restrictions the Admiralty Board put on them in giving Legacy orders he clearly cannot make a judgement call on following. It took Legion months and time with the Normandy to even begin to understand how to alter programming to a more organic standard and he doesn't expect the fractured geth left behind from the war to have accomplished it so soon.

Admiral Reegar nods and relays the message to his men as Jane steps away to link the Normandy up to his direction. Tali is lost in thought as she wrings her hands and stares intently at the hologram. Finally, she speaks. "Will the geth fighters' systems fail when the dreadnought is destroyed?"

Legacy nods. "We predict with ninety-seven point three accuracy that they will cease to maintain a stable network without the existence of a central server. They will remain active, but unable to share information."

"Kal'Reegar," Garrus calls as he turns to look back, waiting for the quarian Admiral to raise his head in response. "Direct your men to focus on the dreadnought first and foremost. Remain of the defensive against the fighters until it is destroyed."

The man nods along with Jane, who heard the last bit, and returns to his comm to relay the orders. As Garrus turns back, Admiral Raan is just closing her Omni-Tool. "The Patrol Fleet will remain orbiting Rannoch as the last defense."

"If the creators' Heavy Fleet is destroyed, we will alert all geth to go offline." Legacy looks at the shocked and wide eyed Admirals. "We do not wish to endanger the creators and will choose non-functionality to prevent another war between our people."

"Legacy," Tali whispers, her voice wavering as she looks to Garrus, as if to ask for help convincing the Prime. What is he to say? That the geth should stay functional and risk becoming infected and turned heretic? Then what? All the quarians they saved by forcing a peace will lose their lives and Garrus can't risk that, not when he and his wife are still planetside.

"It makes sense," Admiral Koris says, speaking the words Garrus is thinking. "And we hope it doesn't come to that." He looks to Legacy and sees the Prime nod in understanding before looking to the other Admirals. "I don't have many ships left, but-"

"Admirals!" A quarian runs into the room from the far door, where the private Admiralty Board's chambers are, and rushes to the collective. "Former Admiral Han'Gerrel and his fleet are sending hales to our communications."

"The Relay is activating," Admiral Reegar announces and Garrus swears he can smell the adrenaline rising in the room, his own body heating up with instinctual responses that demand he ready himself for a fight.

"Admiral Koris, Admiral Zorah, alert all civilians to get to safety," Raan orders as she turns to the messenger, motioning the console. "Connect us. Hurry."

There is a short burst of interference as the communications channel is accessed and its image taking over the holographic image. Before them stands a very familiar figure, even the darkened bridge's lights unable to mask the man. Instinctively, Garrus bites back a growl at the memory of the danger this idiot put himself and - more importantly - his mate in.

" _This is Han'Gerrel with the exile fleet_." The words come laced with guilt and pain, the former Admiral shamed and abandoned by all but a few select ships because he made the wrong call. " _We are reading reports of hostile activity through the Relay -Wait…_ " Voices from his men off camera within what now seems to be a ship's bridge. " _Keelah, it's geth forces…"._ He turns from the comms to address his crew, demanding, " _Prepare for evasive maneuvers! Prep evacuation procedures!"_

"Gerrel? What's happening?" Raan looks up to Xen for answers the woman can't give before her words catch the former Admiral's attention once more. "Are you in the system? Where are they?"

" _I'm sorry, Shala'Raan."_ His voice is soft as he drops his head, saying. " _I and my men couldn't leave our home… We tried to stay away…"_

"Keelah, enough blubbering," Admiral Xen waves off the man and leans down closer to the comm unit on her side of the massive console. "Give us the location of the geth fleet and we'll do what you could never do."

" _I've already sent the coordinates… I don't know if…"._ There is a long pause wherein the hear the all too familiar sound of weapons fire colliding with the ship and resulting blares of sirens. Many of his bridge crew shout is shocked and panicked voices behind him as Gerrel's shoulders drop.

Defeated, he says, " _They are firing on my ships, my fellow men and women."_ He speaks away from the comm and there are loud stomps of feet and rushed murmurs of distant shouts before something more is said. Something along the lines of 'evacuate' and 'no choice' is all that manages to make it through the din before Han'Gerrel returns. " _Please, Admirals, I beg you forgive those that followed me into my exile. They do not deserve to suffer for my own mistakes."_

"Han…" Koris' eyes are wide in confusion as he looks to the others. "We don't understand."

Garrus does, he knows full well that, even if he couldn't hear it, there has been a decision made that will change the course of this heretic attack and the quarian's defensive efforts. He hums as Jane returns with Admiral Reegar to overhear the conversation.

The Admiral's words fall as if unheard as Han'Gerrel slams his fists in frustration on the console and turns to his men. " _I am_ _ **not**_ _abandoning my duty!"_

" _And I won't die here!"_ another quarian voice shouts, a man coming to the former Admiral and shoving him. " _You're damning us all!"_

" _Then evacuate,"_ Gerrel shouts, shoving a finger towards the distance, the comms forgotten. " _I'll fly this damn ship myself if I have to!"_

" _Good fucking luck,"_ the man practically growls back, fearful and desperate cries echoing through the chambers on Rannoch. The unnamed quarian soldier shoves past Han'Gerrel as he shouts to the crowd. " _Don't be fools! Don't die for this disgrace's mistakes!"_

Stunned silence rolls through the Admiralty Board's chambers as Legacy moves to type at the terminal, shifting the image to a better view of the quarian vessel's bridge. All around the massive room are frantic quarians abandoning their stations and running for the nearest accesses to escape pods. The man from before stands in the bridge attempting to rally the troops hesitating at their posts as the horrific image of the geth dreadnought grows ever larger in the large cockpit viewport behind Han'Gerrel's back.

The man stirring everyone into a panic and in a light green suit runs to a door, stopping as others shove past him to address those few still at their posts. " _What are you waiting for?! Hurry up before it's too late!"_

A woman, high ranking by the insignias on her suit, moves to stand beside the former Admiral and crosses her hand behind her back. She glances to Han'Gerrel and nods once before saying, " _The rest of us will stay with the captain. You can run like the coward you are, Klih."_

Klih shakes his head and flips a dismissive, angry hand towards the woman before running to catch up with the last few too frightened to serve until the end. These people would never make turians, Garrus thinks with a shake of his head as Gerrel nods to his supporter and returns to the communications terminal.

Unperturbed by the outburst and abandonment of nearly all of his men, Gerrel lifts his head towards the crew before turning back to the Admirals. " _Captains under my command are retreating towards your Heavy Fleet. The Dalain's crew has evacuated in escape pods except for the few crew that refuse…"_ He looks from the camera at his men, many of them nodding in agreement and acknowledgement of their fates. With shoulders squared and chin lifted, he glances back to the comm. " _We will do what we can to protect my people."_

"Han," Raan pleads, looking to Kal'Reegar. "The Heavy Fleet is coming. Just hold on."

The shake of Reegar's head only cements Gerrel's words when he says, " _There is no time. The geth fighters are targeting the retreating ships. We do not have the firepower or defenses to withstand a forward assault."_ Tali takes a shaking breath as she steps closer to her aunt, wrapping her fingers around the woman's forearm. The two share knowing looks before Tali drops her head.

Jane looks to Garrus and the two share a knowing look. He knows the price of saving one's people involves sacrifice, it's been drilled into his head seemingly since birth and proven during the war. His mate, however, still carries each death, still can't separate an individual from their actions in order to not carry their deaths in her mind.

Han'Gerrel turns from the communications terminal to face the massive geth dreadnought now completely overtaking the large viewport. Tali sobs, still so used to death - and even more so now that the war is supposed to be over - and Garrus can feel even his own heart speed at the impending absolution that will come with these men and women's actions.

There is no turning back as the _Dalain_ picks up speed, turning it into a deadly weapon. Garrus hears Gerrel take a deep breath and lift his head, speaking one last time.

" _Keelah Se'lai."_

There is only the sight of the dreadnought's kinetic barriers flickering and shattering just before the last image they are given is the too close hull of the dreadnought. A flash of light blinds them with the instant cut of the channel. Not even static fills the room to drown out Tali's whimpering sobs, Raan's soothing mumbles, Koris' defeated sigh, Xen's hum of disbelief, or Reegar's soft curse. Legacy's head swivels to take in the room before catching the only eyes watching, Garrus'.

"We are receiving reports from geth and creator forces that the heretic dreadnought has been destroyed," he says as he closes his Tool. "The remaining heretics will not be able to share data without an established communications channel."

He nods just as his wife slams a fist on the console, sending a wave of static through the hologram of a now nonexistent heretic dreadnought. "Fucking piece of shit," she curses, head down. "This fucking war was supposed to be over."

He hums, choosing his words carefully. _War is never as we like to imagine. It does not simply end, but go into a kind of slumber before rising again. There is no war to rid ourselves of it for it is in our nature._

Instead, he simply lays his hand on his mate's shoulder and steps closer to her to press his forehead against her head. He rumbles soothingly and wordlessly to ease the guilt he knows she has wrapped over her shoulders over this. It is, once more, something she will have to overcome, to come to live with, and he will do whatever he can to make sure the dead leave his wife to the live the life they fought, and lost, to live.


	59. Chapter 59

Jane

Garrus lets her shower alone to calm and collect her thoughts while he tends to the twins. The presence of her naked husband beneath the spray of the shower would only distract her and, for this one moment, she can't allow herself that peace. Not when death has reared its ugly head once more and she couldn't do a damn thing to stop the fucking idiot Gerrel.

Her thoughts crash like tumultuous waves within her skull, bashing against the bone as the images of all those lost - known and faceless - run through her head. Even beneath the hot water, she trembles and rubs her prickling flesh as a little voice whispers what ifs. What if she had done more? What if this could have been prevented by something she could have done on the Citadel?

What if the Reapers aren't really dead? Or stopped? Or whatever the fuck is wrong with them right now?

_What if it's all been for nothing?_

Jane can't stand it. She slams her fist into the tiled wall with a loud thud and spear of pain up her fingers, and sucks in a gasping sob. They haven't survived the war, but merely lived through one battle and marched right on into the next like good little soldiers.

With water beating tirelessly against her skin - trying its damndest to wash away her thoughts and failing - she rests her forehead against the wall of the shower, eyes shut and lips pulled into a tight line. Her skin is flush from the heat, but her body still quakes in distraught and unfurling rage. She is exhausted, bones aching and spirit crumbled into sand beneath the weight of the years, but she continues to be reminded that there is no out, nothing within grasp that says, 'yes, you are home. You are free.'

An out will only be to join those who died before, and she doesn't know if she has the strength to face the ones she failed.

The shower's spray begins to weaken, losing pressure as it gradually switches to cooler temperatures. While not too shocking of an action on the automatic system's part, the fact of how much time must pass before it activates is. Any one, continuous use is limited to an hour and it feels like Jane has barely stepped in and only begin to try and wash away the heaviness of the day.

Sighing, Jane hits the deactivate command on the shower. The water has done little to rid her of the grime on her skin from the grasp of the dead clinging to her, but she knows any longer will bring her concerned mate to her side. While she trusts in his care and his ability to share her burdens without ever being asked, she doesn't want to give herself that out just yet. She wants to let herself feel the pain for just a while longer. Maybe then she can find the courage to walk away from it all and damn the consequences and that nagging voice of 'better judgement'.

She dries off in silence, nothing but the soft scuffle of soft cotton towels against her skin as a stark contrast to the roar in her head. Commands to silence themselves don't seem to still the voices of the dead, but the chill raising the hair on her body and steam in her lungs helps in its own way. If she focuses, lets those two sensations take hold, she can begin to hear something more, something outside of her inner discord.

It's a sound that helps to throw a blanket over the voices, wash away the pain for another day. It's the sound of life.

"That's it," she hears her mate say, voice high and joyous, and she wraps the towel around herself to stave off the Cabin's chill as she steps outside. "You did it!"

At first, she doesn't understand why their son is sitting, seemingly alone, on the floor before the empty fishtank. Rounding the nursery brings more to light and she smiles warmly at the sight of Garrus sitting across the room and their daughter climbing up onto the couch right beside him. His mandibles flare into a bright smile and she can swear she even feels the Cabin air vibrate with the intensity of his purring vocals. When his beautiful blue eyes look to her, the last of the darkness clawing at her shrinks away and her body relaxes, comfort easing her tense shoulders.

"Hey," Garrus calls to Jane with a glance as he helps Cassia up onto the couch with a gentle hand. "You missed it." Pride radiates off him as he nuzzles their daughter's forehead. "Cassia made it all the way over to me with only a small stubble."

Jane's eyes widen in stunned amazement and she nearly drops her towel. Sure, they've been working with the twins on walking and talking, but they never seemed to get more than babble or a few steps unassisted. It was never something she or Garrus knew anything about beyond what the extranet says, but, even then, the whole parenting experience is not only new, but something they hadn't even thought they'd need to have. Given that, to see Cassia not only walking alone, but _across the damn room_ is shocking in an of itself.

"Holy fuck," Jane whispers as she blinks, staring in awe at their daughter before gazing towards Damocles. "You're shitting me."

Garrus chuckles and shakes his head, turning his attention to their son with a rumble. "How about it? Want to show mommy how it's done?"

 _I gotta see this shit._ Jane raises her brows and moves to sit on the closest end of the couch, afraid she'd probably fall on her ass if she finds out Garrus isn't just pulling one off on her. While she sincerely hopes her children are already ahead of their game and walking, it's also a bit unnerving to imagine that they'll now be able to get their little asses around without someone to keep a handle on them. Judging by how the twins are now, walking and talking is just going to be a whole new step into horror for herself and her husband.

Damocles watches how his father holds out his hands enticingly, chirping and cooing in encouragement. Jane, stuck in the predicament that she is, tries her best to match with her own smile and pat on the couch that draws their sons attentive eyes. "Come on, little man. Don't let daddy get away with leaving you on the dirty floor."

Her mate snorts at that, but some part of their gentle urgings seems to help as Damocles twists and climbs to his feet, three toes flexing against the warmed floor panels. He is a bit wobbly at first, arms up and out to his sides as his little mandibles flare and snap back with a click. Their son looks around the room and Jane can almost swear she sees the thought processes running through his head. _That_ , she thinks, _a look that will proceed trouble with this one. I'd bet my fucking ass on it._

Finally, decision apparently made, Damocles takes one calculated step forward and closer to his dad. Jane's lips spread into an elated smile and she hears Garrus purr just before their son stops once more to look around the room. That raises her curiosity and she chuckles, holding her towel tight with one hand as she leans down and holds out her other. "Do you want to come to mommy?"

Instead of either of those, their son - _the little shit_ \- turns and begins to step towards the bed. Unable to help it, Jane laughs at both his ever developing skill to surprise them and her husband's confused trill.

"Didn't expect that."

She snorts and stands up, walking to their son just as he loses his balance half a meter from the bed. "There, there. The bed is always better than mom and dad." Kneeling down, she offers her hand and helps Damocles up to the bed, then cupping his butt to boost him up. "I'm more hurt that I didn't get any of our kids to walk to me."

She hears that low hum that says he's thinking before turning in time to see Garrus set Cassia down. "Why don't you go see mommy?" he whispers to their daughter loud enough for Jane to still hear. She chirps and climbs up to her feet with his helping hand just as Jane sees him smile in her direction. "Ready, mommy?"

She can't help the huge, giddy grin on her face as she nods and leans forward. "Fuck yeah." Holding out her hand, she cups her fingers invitingly and ready to offer aid should Cassia reach for it. Her voice is gentle and full of every ounce of love she's ever only had around these three special turians as she says, "Come on, baby girl. I know you can do it."

Cassia's steps are much slower and more measured than her brother's and her hands stretched to her sides grip at the air as if counting paces, but it is working. Whatever plan their daughter has put together for how to get walking down is actually fucking _working_ and it's the best damn thing Jane has ever seen. How in the hell Cassia came from being nothing more than a fluffy furball to a little walking monster, Jane will never be able to fully grasp, but she's done it.

Their daughter has learned how to walk unassisted, Jane fully realizes and understands as Cassia ignores her offered hand and steps straight up to her mother's knees to lay her tiny hands on them with a huge grin on her face. The triumphant look in their daughter's crystal blue eyes is all Jane needs to cement this moment in her memories, to forever prove that she wasn't just imagining this.

_Yes. My fucking daughter_ _**did** _ _just walk across the damn floor._

"Suck on that, Reapers," Jane whispers as she leans down and kisses Cassia's forehead, closing her eyes as a tiny hand reaches up to play with the wet curls fallen over her face from the angle. Caressing her daughter's cheek, she gives her a last nuzzle before letting the impatient child to go back to her dad. "Now that she knows, there's no stopping her."

Garrus' warm chuckle makes their daughter purr as he nods in agreement. "We've created a monster."

Jane snorts and looks over her shoulder to their son who seems to be content sitting and watching the show. "What do you think? Want to give something else a try?" She smiles when he looks up to her with a grin and chirp. Having his attention, she pats on the bed beside her, calling to him. "Come on, handsome. Let's try talking."

"That way he can just call us when he wants to go somewhere," her mate pipes in from across the room with a teasing rumble and Jane rolls her eyes in hope he can at least _feel_ her exasperation even if he can't see it behind her back. "What do you say, princess? Want to try for 'da-da'?"

"I think 'ma-ma' will have more success," Jane corrects as she pulls Damocles into her lap and smirks at her husband's unamused mock glare.

"You focus on yours and I'll focus on mine. Then we'll see who loves us more."

Snorting, she smiles and blows a playful kiss at him. He chuckles and flicks one of his mandibles in a smile before returning to their daughter in his attempts to get her to talk first.

Sure, maybe it isn't the _best_ idea to turn childhood milestones into a competition, and they would never actually continue to do so or encourage the twins to once they are old enough to understand the concept, but now? Now is just the two of them and two babbling babies with nothing better to do than provide entertainment for their crazy parents.

"Did you ever think we're a bit insane for turning child rearing into a contest?" she muses without looking up from her son as she playfully wiggles his mandible. "Can you say 'ma-ma'?"

Garrus hums and she can hear their daughter try to mimic the sound. "When have we ever been sane?"

She waits for him to finish testing Cassia for 'da-da' before she says, "Well, I know this kind of shit would fuck them up if they ever found out." Looking up, she catches him giving her a dubious look.

"You've obviously never payed attention to siblings in the vids."

"I guess not. Why?"

He chuckles. " _Every_ thing is a competition for siblings. I'd bet even more so for twins." Shrugging, he looks back to their daughter and strokes her cheek with his curled finger. "I think they'll come to see that we 'compete' on nearly everything, but it's never an actual win or lose." There's a pause before he huffs an amused snort. "But let's not tell them we're trying to see who talks first whenever we tell them of their childhood."

"Deal," Jane agrees with a shake of her head at the thought. She never had siblings, but she's pretty damn sure that, if she had any, neither she nor them would ever let the rest of the family live it down. Plus, she would never want her children to have an inkling of doubt over their parents' love for even a moment should they mistake her and Garrus' teasing nature. "Yeah. Fuck that mess."

"Fook!" her son shouts and her hand snaps to his mouth, eyes widen and snapping to her husband. _By the love of all things holy, do not have heard that._

Just as is her luck, Garrus rumbles questioningly as he looks in her direction with a raised brow plate. "What did he just say?"

"Mommy?" She tries her best at an innocent smile, but he seems unconvinced as he narrows his eyes. "I swear he said 'ma-ma'."

"Doubtful."

Sighing, she looks at her son and drops her hand. "Traitor," she whispers and he giggles, mandibles flicking and vocals purring like an engine. Still, though, Jane is overwhelmed with joy at even a single word being said - despite their intention of something nicer. She can tell even her husband doesn't mind the curse as his elated purr is audible from across the room.

Garrus chuckles and she hears him speak to their daughter. "How about you not be as abrasive as your mother and brother, hm? Let's try something much more polite like 'da-da'."

Jane snorts. "You're no fun-"

"Da!"

The voice is soft, almost unheard, but both parents emit their own sounds of surprise. Jane gasps in time with her mate's subvocal yip and she looks to their daughter now grinning at the power she has over her parents. "Holy shit… They can _both_ talk."

Garrus nods and purrs, pressing his forehead to his daughter's. "Da-da?"

"Da," Cassia says, looking between her parents in confusion. _Oh, the sight we must make squealing like schoolgirls because she says a word we keep repeating at her._ "Da?"

Her husband rumbles heavily, overshadowing his voice as he nods and whispers something to their daughter. Whatever it is sends her into happy chirps as he hugs her and Jane, knowing her son doesn't understand his speech is because of her own mistake, looks to their son with a smile. Caressing his cheek, she leans closer to kiss his mandible and hear his trill in excitement. "Why don't we try with 'ma-ma'?"

"Mmm," he starts joyously, kicking his legs and smiling at Jane's ridiculous gasp of anticipation.

"Mmm-aaah."

She struggles not to spin her hand in encouragement before he jumps, raising his hands and shouting, "Ah!"

"Great! Now put them together," she says again, kissing him on the cheek. "Together. Mmm-aah…"

Damocles watches her lips move before chirping loud, as if realization is the light in his little eyes. "Ma!"

Jane cheers something incoherent as Damocles chitters and chirps, clapping his hands. If her own excitement wasn't so loud, she'd be able to hear her mate and daughter celebrating in much the same way. It's not much given what she knows their children will accomplish over the years, but just these few words, few steps, are what she needs to help to finally beat down the last whispers of death into submission.

_Let the dead have their say another day. This is for me, right here, right now._


	60. Chapter 60

Garrus

He and Jane manage to coax a few more laps around the Cabin and tries at speech from Damocles and Cassia. That is, until the twins decide they've showed off enough for the day and adamantly refuse to continue. Even first time parents like the Vakarians know that the loud squawks and cries are the only warning that a tantrum was moments away they'd get. With decision made to call it a day, he and Jane - now clothed - collect up their children and head for the lift in search of food.

As the elevator slowly descends, Garrus shifts his son on his hip to lessen the distance the young child has to reach to play with a button on the side of his tunic. Knowing Damocles, Garrus will need to keep an eye out to make sure he doesn't end up missing a piece of his clothing because, if there's one thing his son is skilled at, it's destruction. _True to his parents, I guess._

Holding Cassia in her arms, Jane smiles and hums a melody. Garrus purrs at the sight of the two and relaxes his mandibles in joy that, despite the hit he knows she took to her psyche after the last mission, she can still find peace here, with her family. He would be lying if he thought she believes he doesn't see the way Han'Gerrel and his men's deaths weighs heavy on her shoulders, but he knows that, when she's ready, she will come to him. They may not even need to speak of it to heal, not after everything they've been through, how far they've come together.

"So familiar and overwhelmingly warm," Jane slowly sings, caressing Cassia's mandible with the back of her finger. "This one, this form I hold now." Damocles chirps and gnaws on Garrus' button as his mother's soft voice attracts his attention, determined to chew it off as Jane hums. "Embracing you, this reality here. This one, this form I hold now. So. Wide eyed and hopeful." Picking up the pace of her melody, Garrus begins to hum with his vocals in effort to extend her lullaby to their son in his arm. "Wide eyed and hopefully wild. We barely remember what came before this precious moment. Choosing to be here, right now. Hold on, stay inside. This body, holding me, reminding that I am not alone in, this body, makes me feel eternal. All this pain is an illusion."

She rolls the vowels as the lift's doors slide open to release her voice into the expanse of the Crew Deck. With her attention completely on continuing to hum to their daughter, Jane doesn't notice the brightly colored and flashing datapads hung up along the hall. Garrus, and even Damocles, do, however, and the older Vakarian's hum of confusion halts her voice as she finally looks up, mid sentence.

"We barely remember - what the fuck is on the walls?"

Garrus chuckles at the thought of the lullaby going quite like that and steps out in search of explanation. While not all that uncommon for the crew to do something odd, it's not everyday that their antics stretch into the common areas.

"Keelah! About time!" Tali nearly drops the platter of some purple and green leaves.

"What the hell is all this?" His mate asks with a raised brow as she takes in the room, eyes turning to the full table of food as Garrus, instead, takes note of most of the crew in attendance. "Did I miss something?"

"Haven't you ever seen a celebration, Lola?" James snorts as he carries something brightly colored and, dare Garrus say, _drooping_ to the table and sets it in the center. "Hey, Esteban! Did you find any candles over there?" he yells back towards Cortez piling meat patties onto slices of bread.

Tali waves her hand, saying, "We don't need those. Shepard would kill you if you caught the Normandy on fire."

"More like _Joker_ would," Aelia corrects with a rumble and chuff of humor as she carries a jug of red liquid to the table.

"Uh, _hello?_ Mind telling me what the fuck is going on instead of fucking ignoring your commanding officer?" Damocles agrees with a shout of 'fook' that gets a handful of stunned looks as crew pause what they're doing and a handful of laughs from Bray and Sephone. "Yeah, listen to the little shit," she deadpans as she and Garrus head closer to the impromptu feast.

"Ancestors save us." Tali sighs and shakes her head, coming to meet halfway and offer her hands out to take a baby. "He's just like you." Jane snorts as she lets the quarian take Cassia, the young girl making a high cooing sound that gets a chirp and giggle from the little turian. "Don't be like mommy, okay? We ladies need to stick together."

"Hey. I'm a perfect lady."

Tali pointedly ignores Jane's protest as she carries Cassia away, finally explaining to the baby instead of her parents. "We're going to have a belated birthday party for the twins." She turns back and her eyes crescent in a smile. "I don't know anything about human or turian food-"

"So she came to the experts," Vega shouts with a grin from the kitchenette where he hands Sidonis plates and Elihu collects up glasses. "Twitch, here, put together something for you, Scars!"

Garrus looks to Aelia to see if she knows what, in fact, has been made for them and she merely shrugs. Of course, he didn't expect much else considering the woman has said before that she has absolutely no homemaking skills to speak of. He may not necessarily like the cook, but, with so many others of his kind around, he doubts the man will try to poison him without risking being caught. _Although, Sidonis was never one for making the smart choice._

Still, he shakes off the thought and nods in greeting as Ilden approaches with a smile. The drell man playfully taps a gloved finger on Damocles' nose with a chuckle at the resulting twitch before looking up. "Good morning, Garrus." He turns to take in the haphazardly decorated room. "Human customs are strange."

Garrus rumbles in agreement before chuckling. "That's not the weirdest I've seen."

"Said the species that tattoos their faces for fun," Donnelly interrupts from the second table only to keep an elbow in the side from Gabby. "What? It's true!"

Ilden silently asks for the baby and Garrus gently shifts him over as Jane leans over to poke the odd centerpiece of the main table with a fork. "I'll admit, while I didn't expect something like this, I shouldn't have put it past you fucking assholes."

"It's not too weird?" Tali asks, voice self-conscious as she gently bounces their daughter on her hip.

Garrus' mate snorts as Rym grabs her hand to make her stop jabbing the brightly colored pile of food on the table. "I've gotten used to the crew being a bunch of freaks, new and old."

Tali scoffs lightheartedly as the last plates of food arrive to the tables and, by silent agreement, everyone starts to gather around and sit in their seats. There a silent moment of what to do next before Tali, beside Jane, clears her throat and gently passes Cassia over.

"Okay," she addresses the entire Mess, motioning the table. "For my people, we cherish every bit of food we produce, even during celebrations like this." She brings her hands together and wrings them as her eyes meet Jane and Garrus'. "Quarians don't celebrate birthdays, we celebrate milestones. Birth, first suit, our Pilgrimage, our return. You know, that kind of stuff. And it certainly isn't like this," she adds with a hint of amusement as she motions the best attempt at a cheery, bright and active environment.

"And that's where the extranet came in," Garrus guesses and Tali chuckles and nods.

"Well," Jane says as Ilden stands beside his mate. "I've never seen a kid's birthday, so I'm none the wiser." Chuckles fill the room as eyes take good looks at the room all around and Ilden moves to over their son over. Cassia moves to Garrus' lap as Jane takes Damocles and says, "Now, are we going to just stare at the food or actually eat?"

"Keelah, you're impossible," Tali deadpans as she and Ilden collect up platters and start to circle the table. On the other table, Donnelly and one of the CIC crew do the same with their own platters. Garrus can only imagine how much food this entire meal has taken from the stores, but, when he considers the reason, he has a hard time complaining.

Food is passed around the room and between the tables, crew either taking a portion to their own plates or handing it along the line. Garrus has never seen such a custom, but, in a society such as Tali's, he can understand the necessity of unity, cooperation, and enjoying the simple pleasures of sharing in a meal. Nothing goes to waste as the platters' bounty dwindles for both levo and the much more sparse dextro.

With plates piled high with everything but the centerpiece - of which Tali insists must be saved for later - the Mess turns into a loud, boisterous flurry of shouts, storytelling, and praise to the cooks. Of the table with the ground team, Bray is the first to start the circle of boasts and tales. Some part of Garrus is damn sure the stories that they'll be hearing are more meant to get the best reaction from the twins as eyes continuously glance towards the babies to see how rapt they are. _Won't they all be disappointed to realize nothing will get as much interest as food. Not that I'll be the one to break it to them._

"This Cerberus bastard didn't know what hit him," he says as he smirks, setting his drink down. "Turns around and," he slams the drink down, making Sephone jump beside him and cough her own drink, "off the balcony he goes."

"You bastard," the asari says lightheartedly as she wipes at the drops of drink on her shirt. "That's nothing. There was this one time I was right at the foot of a Reaper when it went down." She smirks and lifts her chin. "Yeah. It was back on Earth. Bastard could have easily crushed me."

Garrus and Jane share a look before his mate barks a laugh, stating, "That Reaper going down?" She jerks up her chin and points a thumb between the two of them. "You can thank us for taking that fucker down." Much to Garrus' amusement - enough that he laughs - the crew simply hums a wordless 'mhmm' of unimpressed agreement. "You are all a bunch of assholes."

"You cannot possibly be surprised that they no longer are surprised by your feats," Arcanus says around his drink with a flick of his mandible. "I admit that, after knowing you both, the impossible not longer seems so."

"Alright, smart ass. Let's hear yours."

Reguix sets his glass down and hums, thinking before, "When I was still within the Hierarchy, I and my fellow squadmates were able to kill a thresher maw. We used rockets to distract it while I opened fire with an AA gun."

Others laugh, Jane snorting before lifting her drink to him. "My good sir, you have joined the few that have taken part in sending one of those bastards back to hell."

"Says the woman that woke up Kalros," Rym intones with a rumble, shaking her head. "Craziest idea I've ever heard."

"It was mostly Wrex's," Garrus corrects with a smirk. "Although, he stayed in safety when it actually came down to the _real_ work."

"Talking about a man when he can't defend himself?" Aelia hums in amusement, flicking her mandibles as she points her fork his direction. "Now, now. That's awfully rude."

"Remembering," Harrot asks from the end of the table, between it and the other. "You were a pilot in the war. Curiously: Do you have any stories to share?"

She flicks her mandibles and nods, motioning towards Garrus and his wife. "My team and I were backing up these two and the krogan clan leader when they were approaching the Shroud." She chuckles and smiles at the two of them. "These idiots were _on foot_ around that thing."

"No shit? You were with Artimec?" The pilot nods at Jane's question and she emits that high whistle, making Damocles whine at the sound. "Oh, sorry, baby boy," she says softly, caressing his fringe. "But, damn, now I know why the Primarch spoke so highly of your squad." She waves it off with a hum as the redhead looks to Joker across the way. "See? She's a hell of a pilot. Hell, maybe better than you."

The jab gets amused chuckles and laughs, but the pilot doesn't respond with his usual snark. Garrus knows the look on the haggard, tired face as one still burdened with loss, but he'd be the last to comfort the man. Not after the two years he was away from his own love because of Joker's actions. Maybe, when those years pass for the man, Garrus can hold more sympathy, but, as of now, there isn't even a definite answer to EDI's fate.

Talk gravitates away from the failed attempt to include the solemn pilot and back towards more frivolous, boisterous attempts to one up each other as the contents of everyone's plates begin to dwindle. It's then that Tali stands up and holds up hands to get everyone's attentions once again. "Sorry to interrupt, but we have one more thing to do." She smiles and nods to James and he grins, grabbing a knife from beside the mysterious colored food. He begins to cut into it to reveal it's off white interior - and realization for Garrus that it's something like a human cake if it weren't collapsing, for some reason - as she continues. "I read that it should have candles, but we don't really have those." She looks to Jane. "I hope that's okay?"

His mate shrugs. "Probably better if we don't have an open flame around us."

Ilden nods from around Tali's form as she chuckles and some of the crew smirk in shameless threat at all the trouble they could cause. Garrus wouldn't put anything past the lot, but he knows them well enough to be sure that none would put in danger the one thing that's brought them together from all around the universe.

When a plate is set down in front of him, he raises a brow plate at Tali. While not allergic to anything levo, he can't say the same about the others or even if they have a taste for it. He doesn't mind it at all and, in fact, often shares his meals with Jane and vice versa on the sheer principal of doing everything together and sharing in the experience, but he's never really thought about the other turians on the crew. Seeing the others accept it for an attempt at a try, he hums and shrugs it off. Without coercion, there is no reason to bother with it. They _are_ all adults, after all.

As forks come to mouths and bites are taken, the entire Mess erupts in sounds of anguish and faces twist in surprised horror. Many muscle through it and force their bodies to swallow while a rare few politely spit theirs into napkins, but it's Jane who answers Tali's confused look around the Mess.

"Holy Jesus fuck, Tali," she says before forcing herself to swallow, lips pulling taut in barely concealed distaste.

"Is it bad?"

"Let's just say you're lucky you can't eat it," Sephone explains before drinking the rest of her drink in one gulp.

Their quarian friend looks to his wife and she shrugs. "It's like eating wet sand-"

"How you managed to make it both dry and soggy is a gift, girl." Bray pokes at it with his fork, four eyes squinting at the offending food, and Tali huffs.

"What do you think?" she asks her boyfriend and he stays quiet, smiling instead.

Bray snorts. "It's a trap!"

Tali scoffs and flicks a piece of icing from the top of the cake at him, missing as it plops to the table. "Bosh'tet."

Garrus pushes his plate away without the need to try it and rumbles in amusement as Sidonis across the table leans over and opens his mouth to just let his bite fall out onto the plate. Jane, on the other hand, isn't fast enough to stop Damocles from grabbing a handful and Garrus hears her gasp as she quickly grabs his hand midway to his mouth.

"Oh, god, no. You don't want that, little one." She grabs her napkin to wipe his tiny hand off. "Probably give you the shits."

"Please, it's not that bad-"

"Again, you can't eat it," she interrupts with a smirk, nudging their friend. "Attempt to murder us all, aside, thank you."

Tali smiles down to them as Garrus nods with a purr in agreement. "Of course. Anything for you two." She lays a hand on Jane's shoulder before reaching down to lay it on their son's head. "I have one last thing for tonight. I think you'll love it."


	61. Chapter 61

Jane

Night brings the crew together again after their shifts - and pointed chores of cleaning up the mess from the afternoon birthday party - as Tali returns to the ship with an adamant demand that everyone off duty come outside and into the quarian settlement. She even waltzes straight into the Loft as Jane is dressing out of her ship uniform, yelping in surprise at seeing her former commanding officer nearly naked.

"Shepard!" Tali squeaks and jumps just as Jane turns around to ask the intruder just what the hell they were doing. Instead, she snorts at the clearly uncomfortable quarian as the girl tries to look anywhere but the human woman clad in only a pair of black panties. "I'm so sorry."

On the bed, the twins stop their playing to the sound of the commotion and giggle with chirping vocals. It only seems to add to Tali's exasperation as she sighs and covers her masked eyes with a hand. The reaction only makes Jane laugh as she crosses her arms, hip cocked as she says, "What? Never seen another woman's tits?"

Tali's arms drop and she gives an indignant look, pointedly keeping her head raised. "Please, Shepard. I'm not a child." Looking around, she spots the pile of clothes Jane had set out on the lounge table and snatches up a tank top. She tosses it over as she all but demands, "Get dressed. I have something to show you." Jane merely gives her a snort and smirk as she pulls on her shirt, the woman brushing past her to the twins on the bed. "How would you two like to see a special show just for you?"

The tenderness to the girl's voice makes the babies coo and babble as they reach for her and Jane smiles. "Careful, Damocles is in a teething stage. Cassia isn't so bad, but we wouldn't want a hole in your suit."

"Keelah, no." Tali leans back and looks at her hands before back to Jane. "Anything to make sure that doesn't happen?"

"Not hold them?" She gives Jane a narrow-eyed, slack-shouldered look in frustration. "What? Usually, we just let them chew. It doesn't hurt that bad." Heading to the table to grab some pants, she looks around the collected toys, grabbing a soft fish toy meant for teething baby turians. "Here," she says as she tosses it at an unsuspecting quarian that nearly drops it in surprise. "It won't work for Damocles because he chews through everything, but I'll carry him."

Tali nods in thanks and offers the fish to Cassia who looks at it curiously in her tiny, five fingered hands. Nuzzling it a bit, taking in the slightly fresh scent, she holds it to her chest as Tali gently picks her up. "Now you don't have to bite auntie Tali, pretty girl," the quarian says with a coo, eyes smiling beneath her mask as she tickles Cassia to get a trilling giggle. "Do you want to see my next surprise?"

"If it's another cake, I'm going to shoot you," Jane deadpans as she wiggles her hips to get her pants over her ass. "I swear, I've gained weight since those two little shits."

"I like it." She lifts a red brow at Tali and the woman shrugs. "You're...softer?"

Jane's brows lower in exasperation. "Coming from you, I should take that as a compliment-"

"But you are some big soldier, right?" The young quarian cocks a hip as waves her free hand. "Woo is me, I'm Commander Shepard and don't want to live the life I deserve." Jane sees the smile in her eyes as she looks back with a warm tilt to her head. "I'm not the only one that thinks you look beautiful like this. Garrus loves it, I can tell."

"Uh huh," Jane remarks, digging through the pile of clean clothes that she has to throw into the dresser for matching socks. "Sure he does."

Tali makes a dismissive sound between a snort and huff. "I think it's cute that you're self-conscious." Jane gives her a glare and she giggles, looking to Cassia to try and deflect the narrow eyed look. "For my people, you look more feminine than you did before, more like a mother. It's a good image for quarians and very well desired. Garrus would be stupid not to love it too." She sits and pulls Damocles to her side as she waits for Jane to lace up shoes. "And I _know_ he would rather have you look like the loving mother you are than a soldier after everything. You deserve it."

This sort of conversation is not one she'd be expecting to have with one of her closest friends and can't help seeing as a lecture, but she can't blame Tali. As someone who has always looked for home, what must it mean to see her friend denied it as well? There is only one massive problem that divides the two women and their circumstances. Jane is still in apparent demand across the galaxy to clean up shit others can't while Tali is needed at home to help her people rebuild.

"Everyone keeps tell me that shit, but no one cares to realize that that isn't an option." Jane pulls herself up off the couch and shakes her head towards the tank, unable to let her friend see the defeat in her eyes. "I want that, I really do, and fuck if we don't deserve it, but we already tried it. And guess what? The damn Council sent a lapdog at us, threatened our children. I'm not going through that shit again." Finally turning to Tali to see sadness in her masked eyes, she adds, "We don't have the kind of insurance to make sure they stay the fuck away from us."

Tali shakes her head and shifts Cassia on her lap. "That's where you're wrong, Shepard. My people are here. We will support you."

She snorts with an eye roll. "You'd never risk it. Face it, Tali, your people come first to you and the Admiralty Board. You'd never risk pissing off the Council by backing us if they deemed us as going rogue."

"Dammit, Shepard, you bosh'tet." Tali stands and grips the baby tight as she storms forward, pointing a finger into Jane's face. "You united my people and the geth! You gave us our home! We are still outcasts to the Council, so what difference would it be if we support the very people that gave us what we couldn't achieve ourselves?" She shakes her head and pulls Jane into a forceful half-hug. "Keelah, Shepard. I'd do anything to make sure the quarians stand beside you and I know the geth would do anything no matter our decision."

Jane sighs and lays her hands on Tali's back, nodding. "I'll.. I'll try to take that to heart."

"Good." Her argument laid out, the quarian girl steps away and turns to the baby on her hip, rocking her. "How about we get dressed and head outside to see the second half of your birthday?" When Cassia makes a sound an awful lot like 'yeah' - but Jane can't be sure she isn't just putting words into her daughter's mouth - Tali chuckles and smiles over to her former commander. "Do you have their shawls I gave you?"

"Of course," she answers with a nod, motioning the nursery. "We haven't really used them because, well, someone would destroy them." She jerks her chin to her son who, sensing the attention, grins and holds his hands up in a grabbing motion. Jane chuckles at her son's need and approaches him as Tali walks with Cassia to the nursery. "Come on, little man," she says softly as she hefts him up onto her hip.

"Found them!" Tali calls from the nursery, quickly coming out with them in hand.

"So you did."

Unable to figure out where she's going with this, Jane merely stands back as Tali rushes to the bed and sets Cassia down. Next, she lays out the shawls and starts to flatten them out, hands brushing off any collected lint. When she glances over her shoulder to find Jane's curious and confused brow lift, she chuckles and picks up the darker of the two shawls.

"It might be a bit cool for them outside tonight, so these are perfect," she explains as she turns to Damocles. "Plus, I'd love to actually see them _wear_ their gift." With that, she gives a pointed look to Jane in demand to follow up with the hint.

"What? They're so nice, we didn't want to ruin them."

Tali waves that off with a cloth-filled hand. "That's not the point. The point is to wear them." Smiling, she hums and coos at Jane's son to soothe any confusion as she slides the fabric over his head.

The cobalt fabric blankets his shoulders and Tali pulls the front together with buttons so that he isn't practically drowning in it. A loose scrap along the back is pulled in around his neck so that, once buttoned, it can create a hood to cover his head to right above his brows. With the way it's made to have so much fabric, it seems like the woman made the gifts especially to be used at least for a time as the babies grow.

"There," she says softly, pride and joy in her voice as she steps back and clasps her hands. "You look so cute!"

Jane chuckles as she looks down to their confused son, smiling in agreement. Damocles actually has the gall to look offended by the shawl with fluttering mandibles and whirring vocals. "Oh, don't be such a grouch. She's right."

Tali chuckles from where she's dressing a much more cooperative, if a bit curious, Cassia on the bed. "You should probably grab a jacket too, Shepard. I don't think that small shirt will warm you." Buttoning the shawl, she spends the extra time to smooth it over Cassia's shoulders and gently tug it out of the girl's mouth. "Now, now. You don't want to eat that," she says as she offers the chewy fish. "Here, this is better. Why do they even need a toy to chew? I thought their teeth were already grown in?"

"They are," Jane says as she sets Damocles down beside his sister to head to the chest with her clothes in search for a jacket. "They grew it awhile back. They teeth because they're getting used to ripping, not chewing." When Tali looks up in question, she pulls back her lips and points at her front teeth. "They don't have these, only the back teeth meant for ripping." She chuckles at Tali's shudder. "Never wondered why Garrus just eats things whole?"

"I try not to stare at people eating no matter the species. It's… odd."

She laughs at the idea of just how weird that might be considering Tali has probably sent her entire life not able to see anyone else's mouth function due to the masks. It's because of that image that she nods in understanding, pulling out a blue and gray jacket with black stitching over the shoulders and down the back. "Then I bet you didn't know turians can regrow teeth."

"You mean, more than the one?"

"Quarians only have one?"

Tali's eyes widen. "Humans have _more_?"

"Two sets," she explains as shoves her arms through the jacket. "One baby set and one adult that come in after." When her friend shakes her head in either disbelief or to shove those thoughts away, Jane chuckles and comes to pick up her son. "So, I guess it's time for this surprise? Is it just us?"

Shaking her head, Tali picks up Cassia and, once again, adjusts the shawl. "I think most of the crew is already there and waiting. Come on, let's go get your bosh'tet of a husband."

Jane snorts as she follows the quarian from the room, assuming what could possibly have gained him that this time. "Let me guess. Calibrations?"

"No," she explains as she taps the elevator control for the Cargo Bay. "He was working on his gun."

"That can be taken _all_ kinds of wrong ways." That gets her a rough elbow shove. "Alright, alright. I'll save it."

"Keelah, you have children around."

When they arrive to the Cargo Bay, they find Garrus at the weapons bench just as Tali had said. He doesn't even acknowledge the arrivals to the Bay as he examines a newer scope he must have requisitioned from Harrot. Still, even with his armored back to them, Jane can't stop the look over him in appreciation. Even this long together and able to see that very body in private, she always manages to find something else to gawk at and bring heat to her belly.

Where normal people would call 'hey, handsome' or the like - and, hell, her mind was even thinking such - she cups her free hand to her mouth and shouts, "Done playing with your weapon, soldier?"

Tali groans and shakes her head as Garrus' sets his mod down and glances over his shoulder. "Upset you weren't here to watch?" Jane smirks at his joke and Tali's resulting grumble of 'Keelah, you two are horrible.' It doesn't seem to bother him as he leaves his work to come to them, nodding a greeting to Tali before leaning down to nuzzle Cassia. He moves to do the same to Damocles before giving Jane a gentle nip of a kiss on the lips. "I assume this has something to do with whatever you said about tonight?" He asks Tali and the girl nods.

"Everyone is already waiting in the settlement."

He nods and lets her hold Cassia - they have plenty of time to hold their children in the meantime, so they are more than happy to let their closest friends enjoy the opportunity - as he, instead, takes Jane's other hand. When they step out into the - as promised - slightly chill air of the darkening Rannoch twilight, Legacy approaches the docking ramp. He meets them halfway and offers a hand to Garrus, then Jane, before giving Tali a head flap flick of greeting.

"Hello, Vakarian and Shepard-Spectres. Creator Zorah assured us you would be joining the celebration soon."

As he walks alongside them, Jane retakes her husband's hand and looks to the Prime. "And what celebration are we talking?"

Before he can answer, Tali interrupts with a flick of her hand. "Don't tell her! It's a surprise!"

The geth looks between the two before nodding in understanding. Jane huffs in disappointment that she couldn't get the straightest answer and instead has to wait through the walk into the settlement to find out. Instead, she looks up to the Prime and asks, "So, what are the geth's plans for the data they mined? Will it be enough?" She looks to her mate before biting her lip, figuring she might as well take the leap. "Could it help our own AI?"

Legacy's head plates shift before he jerks his head once. "We believe with a 97.6 percentage that the collected data from the heretics can be combined with our own and the EDI code to repair all corruption." He looks down to her. "We ask to join the Normandy to begin repair procedures." Before she can explain that they can't really stay on Rannoch for him to work out whatever his needs, he explains, "We are willing to offer any assistance to Vakarian and Shepard-Spectres on their missions in return."

"We'd never say no to the extra firepower," Garrus answers for her with a hum, looking over her and to the geth. "But we'd rather you be willing to extend your repairs to EDI."

"We offer both." Legacy tilts his head, flaps lifting and slowly lowering. "We wish to offer repayment for your aid in gaining heretic coding."

Jane nods and shifts Damocles over to her mate. She offers her now free hand to Legacy to shake in agreement. "Deal. We're planning on leaving Rannoch tomorrow. You're free to bring whatever you need, and you already know Rym, so you can guess she'll be who you'll be working with on this." She smiles at the geth when he nods in affirmative. "Great to have you on board. Never worked with a Prime before you. You're a hell of a force on the field."

"We have been fully equipped for combat."

"Yeah, we'll work on that," she says with a chuckle as they weave their way through a group of quarians gathered around the massive amphitheater that held the Admiralty Board's meeting within seclusion.

Now, the seats are all full of quarians and geth, the Normandy crew down beside the stage now intricately decorated with flowing fabrics and flickering lights. Tali waves them to follow as the standing crowd of quarians move aside to let them pass, eyes watching in awe and interest of the unique guests. Jane feels Garrus tense beside her and hold their son closer, but Damocles seems none the wiser as he chirps and squeals, wide eyes taking in all the people and sounds of such a large gathering.

"So, Tali," Jane starts as she glances around in confusion, only now lessened by the comfort of being beside her crew and those she trusts as they get into their empty seats. "What the hell is going on?"

Garrus on her right shifts his arms to let Damocles sit half on each of their laps while remaining in the protective circle of his arms and Tali, on her left, lays a hand on her thigh in reassurance. "Along with meals, quarians have a dance we perform to celebrate very important events. I was able to convince the Admiralty Board that we should show the people who gave us our home a part of our culture." She smiles and bounces a giggling Cassia on her lap. "Just watch," she whispers as a hush falls over the crowd.

Up upon the stage, three female quarians in suits in a elegant and theatrical form over the utilitarian suits typically Jane has become so accustomed to seeing. Flowing cloaks of bright teals, oranges, and purples are draped over their heads and shoulders with a billowing wrap around their waists to match. In each of their hands is a bunch of multicolored fabric that, when they reach their places in the center of the stage, drops into a long train of a single stretch.

Jane could swear the sound of a pin could be heard in the moment between their release and the soft chimes of music, but, at their sound, the tense pause of confusion and anticipation lifts. A rhythm builds in the chimes and bells before the dancers begin to move, twirling as they raise their arms to trail the ribbons of fabric in the air. The colorful fabric creates swirling spirals of color that shift and change with each twitch of their wrists.

They circle the stage before spinning, the ribbon spiraling around their bodies before they jerk it back into the sky to widen and flutter over their heads. As they reach the center of the stage, they cross over and repeat the trek to the other side of the stage and directly before the Normandy crew. The bands of color flow so close that Jane can feel the shift of the cool air against her skin and Damocles and Cassia trill in excitement as they reach for the ribbons.

She can almost swear she hears the dancers giggle at that reaction, but they don't falter as they swirl towards the center of the stage and reclaim their places. The outer two begin to drag the ribbon down before pulling it back up, creating wide bands of color. As they make their own dance, the center dances back, her own fabric fluttering into tiny loops above her head as she flicks the ribbon and dances in between the wider waves of color.

In one fluid movement, as the music builds, both outer quarians turn to face the other. Their ribbons undulate before and behind the center dancer as she spins and dances with her own fabric like a lover. Its colors flow and caress her form as she speeds up, dancing between two rivers of her partners' before they two draw close. With a loud bang of bells, they break away, running to opposite ends of the stage with jumping, graceful steps.

They draw back just at the edge of the stage and flick their ribbons over the amazed crowd and Jane smiles at her children's chirps and claps of happiness as they bounce in their holder's laps. With a spin, the dancers run back together and circle each other, lifting and dropping their bands of fabric in a way that it creates the most beautiful whirlwind of color and movement.

It's almost as if looking out into the stars and seeing the swirling colors of the stars, nebulas, and seeming uncontrolled chaos behind the extraordinary. In a culture born in the stars, moving through the galaxy to see all it has to offer, it makes sense that the quarians would create a way to bring such a sight to a symbolic life. That Tali would share it with them, a group of outsiders and probably the first to ever see this, makes Jane look to her friend with a grateful smile.

Tali seems to feel the smile as she turns back and gives one of her own. As Jane mouths a 'thank you', the quarian girl leans over and hugs her tightly. "Thank _you_ ," she whispers back.


	62. Chapter 62

Garrus

He can't remember exactly when he had woken up to the sight of the Rannoch night sky, but, now awake, he struggles to fall back asleep. Beside him, his wife sleeps with a heavy frown dug into her forehead and he knows she is suffering another torment of her dreams, but what is he to do? To sleep would be to join her, and to join her would be to have to live with the fact that, no matter what he does, he cannot stop her. He doesn't even need to join her in her nightmares to know she still carries the weight of death around her neck, allowing the dead to continuously pull the noose of guilt tighter.

How can he make her believe him when he tells her she doesn't owe the dead a damn thing after everything she's already given them and the rest of the Spirits damned galaxy? Regret and guilt has no power in bringing them back, so why not move on as everyone else around them has? What does he have to do to show her that she deserves and needs to let them go?

Garrus growls softly in frustration at the situation, staring up at the stars above. When Tali and Ilden all but demanded to spend the night with the twins in their small prefab, he was sure he and his wife would have a chance to relax, to _pretend_ that they had the relaxation they deserved. With no concerns of children to keep them half awake and ready for any disturbance, the two of them had planned out a night under the stars in the clearing of Tali's soon-to-be home. Yet, there was no calm in the nested bed of cot mattresses, pillows, and blankets from the Normandy they lay in.

He could swear the bone-chilling cold that fell over them in the night was an embodiment of the very cold he knew Jane was struggling with in her sleep. Even now, wide awake and pulling her closer to his side, he wonders if he is, in fact, awake or simply stuck in her hellish dreams and unable to realize his imprisonment.

If he could gain enough control, he'd close his eyes and delve deep into their connection to make sure he was right there with her in her sleeping hell. He doesn't have that power, however, and doesn't know what leads him to sharing in her nightmares in the first place. Turians don't dream - or, at least, he's never remembered dreaming before finding himself in hers - and he's never heard of a way to force one.

All he can really do is be here for her when she wakes, reaching out to him for warmth and comfort. The pain of helplessness burns deep in his chest and engulfs his vocals with intense heat, but he can never let her see him as less than what she needs, what she deserves from him. He'd take a bullet for her - has on many occasions - and, even though he doesn't know how, this is no different. He will take whatever pain her own mind inflicts on her into himself, protecting her from it and reshaping it into a will to fight forever forward.

He gently rolls his wife closer, cupping her head against his chest to let his heartbeat soothe her within her dreams while he cannot travel there himself. She unconsciously presses her body against his side and slides a leg over his own. Any effort to force them the closest they can be.

Rumbling, he nuzzles her head as she gasps and whimpers in her sleep. Garrus has to close his eyes against the searing agony of seeing her in distress, swallow down the self criticism for not having the power to stop or prevent it, and feels her hand move over his chest to grip his keel. When his own hand covers hers, he distantly recognizes the twitches of her fingers through the artificial nerves of the arm that is no longer real and the fact that they are forever scarred from fighting a war they were never supposed to lead - to suffer for - makes itself known once more.

What are her nightmares but another healing wound? And he is neither a healer nor a magician. He is only a single man with only time and loving support to offer, so that's what he has done and will continue to do until he finds that there is nothing beyond the embrace of death.

He hears a high hum just before he feels his wife beside him stretch. Spending so long with her, he knows she's awake even before she speaks with a sleep laden voice. Even if it's a barely translated murmur, he loves it all the same.

"It's fuck'n cold," she curses lightly as she pushes closer to him, using her leg to tug his closer and between her own. He chuckles at the neediness of her sleep addled body and her desire for warmth. "Tali said it's nice here." Her words are clearer, easier to translate, and she snorts after a soft pause. "She wears a suit," she says matter of factly. "Should've thought about that."

He chuckles and tilts his head to nuzzle her forehead with his mouth plates. "I can think of something to keep us warm."

She hums and rubs her cheek against his chest. "How long have you been awake?"

"Don't know," he answers, looking up at the stars and Rannoch's pink-tinted moon. "Couldn't get back to sleep."

Reaching for the sleeping bag, she wiggles further up his body while tugging it higher. When she stops, the warm cocoon now envelops them from neck down. Once engulfed in their shared warmth, she stretches once more with a pleased groan. "Aren't you cold?"

"I have a warm human heating unit." He chuckles at her resulting snort and rubs her back to warm her through her shirt. "Even with the weather, I wouldn't trade this for the Normandy cabin."

"Agreed. It's nice to be on solid ground." She chuckles. "Quite literally, in this case." Jane rolls onto her back and looks up at the sky. "Watching the stars just isn't the same when you're on a ship as when you're on a planet. You didn't really get to see Earth's stars with all the ash in the sky."

He nods in agreement to that and breaks away from the stars to examine his mate. He hates the sorrow in her eyes and frown drawing down her brows, knows the turmoil from her nightmares still haunts her here in her waking hours. Trying to get her to talk, he squeezes her hand to get her attention,

When she looks to him, trying to wear a face of peace in the low light, he sees right through and she sighs as she squeezes back. "I know, Garrus," she says without needing to be asked and looks up at the sky as if needing the strength of the expansive beauty to continue. "I know I shouldn't be doing this, but I just can't. I wish I were a turian and could just tell myself it was for the greater good, but I can't. I just can't. And I fucking hate myself for it."

He rumbles in understanding - even if he, in truth, doesn't actually understand many species' views on saving every life when it's often impossible - and nods, eyes taking in her moonlit features. "You can always talk to me. Your sketching may be helping some, but I'm here for you."

"Yeah, I know. Hell, you can live my nightmares with me, so I should be getting better because you're there, but I guess seeing more people suffering or dying just reopens the wound." Still not looking at him, she bounces her head on his arm. "Dammit, I want to be over it. I _deserve_ to be over it."

He rolls to face her and caresses her cheek, purring as he promises, "I will be here every step of the way. It may not happen today or tomorrow, but you'll learn to let go."

Her tone is tender, heartfelt, as she finally turns to him. "Thank you, Garrus. I don't know where I'd be if not for you."

"Sitting on a Presidium bench being harassed by C-Sec officers when you aren't doing anything illegal."

She laughs soft, the sound warm in the night, and leans closer to press her lips against his mouth plates. Where a gesture would be strange so long ago, the simple press of their mouths has become an intimacy he often looks forward to. The way in which is can convey such a diverse sense of intimacy - from this to a kiss he shares with his children on the cheek or forehead - without always needing more.

However, he won't complain about the more when her lips part and warm tongue gently flickers against his plates. He slips his own against it, caressing and playing against the smoothness of hers, and purrs when the smallest of hums falls from her soft lips. Mandibles ghost over her chin and cheek as he tilts his head to slide past that softness, the tips of his facial appendages flicking along her smooth skin and pulling sighs into their kiss.

She pulls away, but remains close enough for him to feel her breath with she whispers, "Please, Garrus," and he knows exactly what she's asking, what her mind and body need to let go and release the pain of her nightmares. He looks down at her shadowed face and watches her search for him in the dark, her human eyes most likely seeing nothing more than his silhouette, but it's enough light to catch her teeth appear above her lip as she bites it in plea.

Still, he nods and gently presses his mouth to hers, voice just as low when he speaks against her with a heavy purr. "How?"

Without a word, she rolls to face him and starts to push her pants down and off within the sleeping bag. Once gone, she then slides her leg over his hip and into the crook of his hip. He understands the position and slides his hand along her thigh - over metal and scarred flesh alike - before lifting to his elbow. Dipping down, he licks and nibbles along her neck, relishing the soft whimpers and murmurs from her lips as she massages his waist in response. He rumbles in answer to her desire, sliding a hand to her rear to pull her closer, press their bodies together, and use the heated friction between their sexes - his still clothed - to coax himself out.

"Come on," she sighs and she tilts her neck to is ministrations. "I'm starting to feel bad that it's taking you so long to be out." His mate shifts a hand into his pants to rub his widened plates, chuckling teasingly.

Even if his growl gives her every answer she needs, he feels he needs to defend himself. "It's cold," he whispers, affronted. "And I'm stuck in my pants because my beautiful mate's hand is in the way." Garrus laughs at her huff of exasperation up until the moment she slips her fingers into his sheath. He hisses in surprise and a slight sting at the sensation of pressing into the clenched muscles. " _That's_ not going to help, Jane," he nearly whimpers - he wouldn't, though, because that's just embarrassing.

Immediately, her hand is jerked away and she shifts to kiss along his neck. "Sorry. Sorry," she says softly, and he purrs in forgiveness as his mind drifts at the licks and nips from her flat teeth sending shivers down his plated spine.

In any attempt to urge her on, he grips her ass harder and rubs their groins together. Moaning softly at the friction and pressure building the heat within the deep confines of his plates, he closes his eyes as his length erects, sliding from its sheath. He needs to get his pants off, the pressure against his erection from them almost painful in a way he doesn't care for, but his wife's insistence to drive him insane with her tiny mouth and groping hands isn't helping in the matter.

His hands twitch on her flesh at a particularly hard bite and he growls, needing out _now._ Jane - devious as she is - merely chuckles, but understanding wins over as she drops her hands. She obviously can't help the quick squeeze on him through the cloth, causing him to groan in needy frustration, but she gets him out with expert procession built up from years together.

Years that haven't chilled the flame between them no matter what hell they find themselves in.

Released, he turns the tables and assaults her with tongue and hands, rumbling heavily at her moans when he licks and nips her pale skin. She's always liked it on the verge of too rough, and he gives her exactly that as he tangles his hand in her hair to hold her squirming form to endure his torture. Yet, she isn't still as he feels her hands grip his wet length and stroke languidly. A murmur falls from her lips, but he doesn't hear, doesn't need to because her leg's tug on his hip tells all.

Placing his mouth on her shoulder - teasing her with the false threat of sinking his teeth into her flesh - he falls still as he lets her line him up with her entrance. Feeling the intense heat of her calling to him as if pleading without words, he pushes forward and shares in her moan as he slides through their combined arousal.

Their voices rise and dance in the chill night air as he starts to move, sensitive ridges flicking over her own inner textures. Her hands can't seem to remain still as she touches him everywhere, groping his waist, scratching his plated chest, gripping at his arms, and sliding up to rub under his fringe. He loves how, when he's within her, she loses her calm focus and lets him take the lead as he grunts and speeds just enough to hear the soft suction of his length within her amazingly tight channel.

He almost doesn't hear her when she makes a sound between her moans, and only notices after the fact that they were words. With mind too focused on bringing her to the edge and, only after, following her into a joined bliss, he doesn't even focus on the possibility that he's missed something until she speaks again with a better attempt. "Please… Please…"

Rumbling in question, he doesn't slow his patient pace as he lifts his mouth from her shoulder and to her ear. "What? Tell me, Jane."

His desire flooded vocals pulls the same reaction it always does, causing her to arch and groan. She bites her lip, trembling against him inside and out, and he knows she's so close. He needs her to release, to throw away the stresses she's putting on herself and he wants to make love to her until she can't think of anything but him. Yet, he still wants her to give him her want, tell him what he can do to send her over and achieve that goal.

"Bite me," she whispers, cupping his face when he trills in shock and slows to a stop. "Please, Garrus. I want to feel alive, know that I still have you through every fucked up thing that's happened to us."

"It won't feel good-"

"I don't care."

Without needing to see her, he knows her stubbornness will always win him over. Who is he to deny his mate this one thing? And who is he to deny himself the fact that, deep down, he can feel his blood pumping faster and penis within her growing even harder? To reclaim her? Reiterate his claim over the most wonderful woman in this galaxy and the next?

It's the best damn thing he never expected to hear.

Snarling loud enough he's sure Tali and Ilden heard in their prefab, Garrus jerks his hips hard in a demanding pace as he leans down, latches onto her shoulder, and bites down. The copper tang of her blood fills his mouth, coats his tongue, and he clenches his eyes against the tightening in his stomach, the pressure in his length. He doesn't have to hold long, however, when he hears her scream - _definitely_ waking Tali, Ilden, and the whole of the Rannoch settlement.

Her vagina tightens, gripping him like a vise and latching onto his distended ridges. He grunts and thrusts once more into her before growling low and long against her flesh. Blood floods his veins and his newly developed knot fills, swelling to lock them together in a long ago instinct. Never before has he heard or suspected another turian of the capability, but - then again - when have the two of them ever been like anyone else?

Panting and twitching as she comes down, his wife's trembling hands caress over his plated neck. Her fingers spend extra attention to the small gaps between the plates and pull a tender purr from his throat as he releases her to clean the wound. He doesn't have anything at hand and he isn't in the position to remove his shirt given the temperature - and he's damn sure he won't ask her to, human or not - so he uses the only thing he has, his mouth.

Garrus licks her new bite mark with the softest of touches, wiping any flow from her slick skin. She practically purrs herself as she leans into his touch, arms wrapping around him as she sighs. A smile is brought to his face as he feels her relax against him, the tension in her shoulders since she was asleep washing away with her aftershocks.

"I love you, Garrus."

"And I love you," he responds, running talons through her sex and sleep mussed hair.


	63. Chapter 63

Jane

Ears ring as she shushes and soothes her wailing daughter in her arms.

When Elihu told her the babies would cry during their shots just before, she had no clue the MedBay would erupt with two screaming babies that could give even the Reapers and their massive cannons to shame. It didn't help none that Damocles decided to join in on his sister's shrill vocals even before they had a chance to get him to the exam table.

"Remind me to never be here to do this again," Jane shouts over the sobbing twins, bouncing and humming nonsensical sounds to Cassia.

She knows the torment their children are experiencing is down to the fact that, at first, Cassia cried out at the sudden - but quickly ending - sting of the needle, but now the wailing has become a never ending cycle of the loud noise feeding the other. Still, it hurts more than her ears to see and hear their daughter suffering from even the smallest of pains. Garrus, too, keens along with them as he frowns and holds Damocles tight to his chest, and she just feels the burning pain in her chest all the more.

"I'm sorry," Her mate whispers as he gives a light kiss to their son's head and attempts to set Damocles onto the exam table.

Her poor little son clings to his daddy, crying out louder - as if that were even possible - as his fingers grip Garrus' tunic. Regret and guilt pass over her mate's face, but his hands reluctantly ease the tiny hands from his clothing. That only seems to make Damocles scream louder as he kicks and looks to Garrus in apparent betrayal and fear.

One hand dwarfs the other, completely swallowing the trembling digits, as Garrus takes their son's hand to keep it from clawing at the doctor. Getting help from Lantar in rolling the kicking and screaming baby to his belly, he then leans down to rumble and whisper comforting sounds Jane can't quite hear over the gradually decreasing sobs from Cassia as Elihu prepares the shot.

She should have known something like a damn immunization shot wouldn't keep their kids down. Vakarians are fucking unbeatable - everyone knows that - at any age, it seems. If only she could calm her stressing husband enough to realize their children will cry even if it's painful to hear.

He's a good father, she knows, and it only shows in the way he cares for two miniature versions of himself that should never exist. Scarred and battered as they both are, it is Garrus more than herself that has become soft in the face of parenthood. Even Sidonis' presence while her mate is in such a situation as this speaks volumes to his priorities and focus on their family.

Jane only wishes she could share in that paternal power. Every moment, she worries of becoming her mother, in losing something special with her children because she is so different from them, and fears it all affects the way she treats them. She's never looked up how to be a mother - never thought she'd need it - and, now, when faced with two little lives that depend on her and Garrus to learn to live in this post-war universe, she feels like she's flailing. That feeling only grows when Damocles' piercing wail cuts the air like a sharp knife, sending Cassia into an entirely new session of testing her lungs.

Once Elihu steps away from the table with a smile and nod in okay, Garrus practically snatches their son up into his arms. Purring loud enough that the sound begins to soothe the entire stress-filled room, he rocks Damocles against his chest. Sidonis, seeing the intimacy, quietly backs away and makes himself busy with helping Elihu clean up. For that, Jane is grateful because the last thing they really need is her husband's current mood to boost his protectiveness to ridiculous proportions around the man he despises.

"Very good," Solus says as he pulls off the sterile medical gloves with a snap. "Hope will be able to administer next dose in three months." He smiles as his words make Jane's eyes widen and her mate trill in frightened shock. "Would hope you continue to have me aboard. Enjoy Normandy," he continues seemingly without any acknowledgement of their disbelief.

Clearing his throat after chirping in attempt to calm Damocles, Garrus says, "What the hell do you mean 'in three months'? I thought we were done for a while now."

Elihu shakes his head and turns from them to search in his desk. "Nono. Infancy prime age of infection. Must protect. Already missed many. Have to make up for it."

Garrus looks to her pleadingly, but she can't do anything, can't take the pain of the shot away from their children. All she can offer is a sympathetic frown and look to their hiccupping and keening daughter in her arms. It doesn't matter if they will never remember this when they grow older and become adults themselves, she and her mate will definitely keep this moment of discomfort in mind as it's just the beginning of pains their children will face in life.

It's a devastating truth Jane knows all too well no matter how hard she tries to deny it.

When Elihu returns, it's which something brown and wrinkled and hands one to Lantar. Jane is about to ask what the hell it is and what he's doing just having it sit around in his desk when he looks at it, then up to a screaming Cassia, and finally shoves the piece of what Jane now realizes is jerky into her mouth.

Almost instantly, their daughter's wails turn into soft whimpers and her keens lessen from the ear bleeding intensity of before. Damocles still cries, but is soon soothed when Sidonis offers his own hand of tough, dry meat. "The fuck?"

"Found occupying mind optimal in stopping crying. Give something to take out anger on," Elihu says with a smile to her and a gentle pat on Cassia's shoulder. "Found dehydrated meat in Lounge and ran tests. Found sufficient for consumption in moderation."

"Pretty sure that was someone's stash, Elihu." Jane chuckles and looks down in amazement at their chirping and cooing children as they gnaw on the tough jerky. "But I definitely need to remember that."

"Thank whatever spirits that you found it," Garrus adds, relief softening his vocals as he rubs Damocles' back. "I don't know how much longer I could take that." He tries for a weak chuckle. "I think I might be deaf."

Jane smiles at his attempt to forget the episode of immunizations and the ensuing torrent of screams. Leave it to him to be able to bounce back so easily. She nods and chuckles herself. "Should have known it'd take food to soothe the beasts."

" _I hear you're having quite the fun time down there,"_ Joker suddenly says over the comms, sure to have been hearing long enough to know when to shut off the comms or risk going deaf. " _You done torturing the twins, doctor?"_ Jane snorts as Elihu's eyes narrow in a pout and moves to respond and correct the pilot. " _Anyways,"_ Joker interrupts again. " _You got a call coming in from Thessia. Please tell me we're going there. All the past shore leaves have left something to be desired."_

Jane chuckles and offers Cassia over to her father, knowing there is only one person who'd contact them and not have Joker on edge. If anything, he'd often warn against politics, so that can only mean Liara as any of their other allies seem unlikely to be on Thessia. Sure, she won't be disappointed to be proven wrong so long as it's less politics and kissing asses and more a friend peeking out from behind the rubble with grins and proud fist bumps of victory. However, to suspect T'Soni would be much bigger for Jane.

Not only is Liara in a position to greatly help their situation and missions, but also to confide in her and Garrus' hopes to soon leave this life. If anyone can help them disappear, it'd be the Shadow Broker herself, despite the mistakes they all made when trying to hide in the refugee camp on Earth with Garrus' father and sister. Looking back now, Jane mentally kicks herself at being so stupid as to imagine they could just hide in plain sight, but, then again, she had assumed Liara to help disguise the Vakarian family and location.

It wasn't until too late that she understood that even Liara, an asari that dwarfed her in age, was still just no more than a child. The entirety of the war took her mother, her friends, her sense of safety, and, in the end, so many of her people while leaving her home in ruins. At the time, Liara must have been torn between her personal need and want to rebuild and aid, and the fact that she now holds the most powerful web of information in the galaxy. Jane knows she wouldn't have done even half of what Liara accomplished in the war, and, thus, couldn't be bothered to rage against the past quite as much as her mate tended to do.

Knowing that any conversation between Liara and Garrus could very well turn nasty, she smiles in silent question to take care of the twins. He nods with a hum before shifting a child to each hip as he follows her out of the MedBay with both parents giving their own gestures of thanks to Elihu and Lantar for their calm and help with the hectic situation.

Riding the Lift together, Jane drums her fingers on her crossed arm in anticipation for her husband to say something about the woman she's heading to speak with. When he doesn't say or make a sound other than the soft chirps and purrs to their children, she sighs. Just because he's silent doesn't mean he isn't laying on the pressure in the small elevator. She knows him all too well to fool herself into thinking that he won't have an opinion on the matter and voice it at some point. Better now than later, and possibly stop it before it gets to Thessia.

"So…" She starts, voice drifting off as she looks to the ceiling.

"So?" She sees Garrus look to her in her peripheral, mandibles flicking out once as he pauses. "You mean Thessia. Liara." When Jane nods and turn to him before quickly occupying her hands with caressing the babies' heads. "You think I'll cause trouble."

"I know she fucked up, I really do. But you have to admit we could've been smarter too, and not just relied on her the whole time," she says with a soft smile to him. "I just want us all to move past this. If there's anything I've learned because of this damn war, it's that life is too short."

His breath comes out heavy as he hums and steps closer to nuzzle her temple. "I'm not going to strangle or punch her if we meet, if that's what you're worried about. I don't hate Liara. I just... don't appreciate or agree with her decision making skills. Her priorities are skewed, but I realize it's less malice or incompetence and more her age." He smiles and kisses her softly before moving away when the Lift doors slide open on the CIC. "I may have some things to say to her when we see her, but I'll keep my hands to myself," he adds with a playful smirk as she backs out of the Lift.

"You're an ass," she jokes with a chuckle and his spreading grin is the last thing she sees before the doors close off her view.

Giving Traynor a chin lift of greeting and acknowledgment of the call waiting in the comm room, Jane speeds up her walk to a brisk pace. She wants to know just what Liara has after all this time and, maybe, the woman can offer information Jane's been dying to know. She'll admit, she's become so used to having a hand on a universe of info at the end of a single call to a friend that she is pretty damn lazy when it comes to digging it up on her own. _What was I, a caveman back then?_ She chuckles inwardly at the thought as she enters the darkened comm room. _But it sure as hell saved a lot of time and running around the fucking galaxy now that I was back to the old ways._

The sensors for the QEC pick her up and, in response to her presence, throw up the image of Liara. Jane smiles at the hoped for surprise and crosses her arms as Liara's face brightens with happiness. Truth be told, this is the first time either is seeing the other - that Jane knows of considering Liara could have been giving files during the entire medical shit show - and it sparks a warmth inside that has been chilling with each and every realization of another lost. "Damn, is it good to see you."

"You too, Shepard," Liara says with a tender smile, her cheek smudged with something that could be dirt if Jane were to connect it with the matching stains on T'Soni's worker's jumpsuit.

"Been getting your hands dirty, I see," Jane says with a motion to her friend's form and receives a nod in affirmative.

"It's been hard, but things are starting to get back to the closest thing to normal it can be right now. I'm starting to see Thessia as it was, I'm getting _my home_ back." Joy seeps through her words as the woman looks over her shoulder and upward. Jane can image the sight Liara must be seeing and laments not truly knowing the feeling of restoring the kinds of memories seeing one's home come back to life. When Liara looks back, her smile has a bittersweet note. "I… I wanted to say I'm sorry."

Jane waves it off with a hand and shake of her head, saying, "It's fine. Really. We all had our own shit to take care of-"

"But it was my responsibility."

She can't help it. Liara's completely right, it _was_ and she fucked it up when she didn't get her head out of her people's ass and do the job she took on as a Shadow Broker. Hell, in a way, the Shadow Broker held the galaxy together in the way strings had to be pulled and data fed across networks and into the right hands. But that doesn't change the fact that what's done is done and that's exactly what Jane says when she responds, "All you can do is move on and pick yourself back up."

Liara frowns, her eyes dropping, but nods. "I can't talk too much more here. This is a public communications, but is there anyway I can see you?" She smiles and looks into Jane's eyes, her own blue ones full of wistfulness. "I miss you. _All_ of you," she adds with a chuckle, most likely knowing what Jane mate's outlook on the entire situation must be if the stories of their past interactions are an indication.

Jane chuckles and rubs her neck, rolling it to rid herself of an ache from not getting enough sleep last night thanks to worrying over the twin's shots. "You ready for that?"

"I know Garrus will have something to say, but it isn't something I've been already thinking." Jane frowns over that, but Liara gives a reassuring smile and shake of her head. "It's alright, Shepard. I'm ready to do whatever it takes to make it up to you."

Jane pauses to drum her fingers on the base of her neck. "Actually, you just might be able to. We want to know where everyone is, how they are. Can you do that?" Liara nods with a smile and Jane doesn't illustrate how she expects the information given the unsecured channel. "Great. And I'm sure Garrus won't be too much of a problem with the kids around. I swear, stick a baby in his hands and you'll soothe the beast."

She huffs a laugh as her friend chuckles. Looking aside as if her attention is pulled away, Liara then nods and turns back. "I'm almost past my allotted communications time here at the construction camp. So, will I get to see you?" That hopeful smile returns and Jane hums in mock consideration until she hears a huff of exasperation. "Goddess, Shepard, do I have to beg?"

Jane snorts at the thought of seeing her friend on her knees, hands clasped, and staring up with comically wide eyes and a pouting lip. Shaking her head, she says, "Calm down. We'll come. We're about a day off from the Ascension, so we'll be on Thessia in that time."

Liara grins and nearly bursts into a bouncing fit as she clasps her hands together. "That's fantastic! I'll get everything ready for you to spend some time off ship. It won't be much, but anything is better than constant life on the Normandy, right?"

"That it is," Jane agrees with a nod and smile. "Until then, Liara."

They part with an urging on Liara's end from some faceless comm specialist to get the hell off the channel. After, Jane then heads up to the Cabin to see how her husband and children are. She really wishes that jerky trick did the job and the twins haven't started a new crying fit.

As she arrives at the Loft, the first thing she sees is their infant daughter and son playing on a blanket piled on the floor at the foot of the bed. It's a very good sign to see no lasting effects from the immunizations and awes at the resiliency to just let all that happened fall from their little minds. Now if only she and Garrus can get over it so fast, but she's sure their attention span is to blame.

"Now I see," she says as she comes down the steps. "Give you food and toys and you're suddenly fine. What a bunch of fakers." A rumbling chuckle comes from beside her and she smiles, glancing towards her amused mate sitting in the Lounge with his feet up and glass of something in hand. The sight makes her grin like an idiot, to see him so at ease after the hell of a morning they had, and she goes to join him. "Getting drunk?" she asks when she smiles the slight tang of alcohol, yet not as strong as his usual. "Shame on you."

He snorts and offers the glass of something dark purple in hue. "It's only wine, Jane." When she takes it, she sniffs it with a raised brow in question. "With all this morning had to offer, I thought we could share a glass, maybe watch a movie, and sleep." She chuckles and takes a sip, letting it sit on her tongue. "Unless you have something else in mind," he says, leaving the rest unsaid.

Swallowing, Jane elbows him before handing over the glass and getting up in search of a second glass and the bottle. She finds it on the desk beside the Lounge and knows it's only there because the two monsters have already tried to go after it. Pouring some for herself, she smiles at her handsome mate as he watches hers in comfortable.

It's almost a crime when she breaks it. "How do you feel about going to Thessia?"

He brings the glass to his mouth, but doesn't drink yet. "So long as it doesn't turn out like our visit to Rannoch, I'm okay with it." She snorts and plops down beside him, cuddling against his side when he wraps an arm over her shoulder. "And I'd like to talk to Liara about that possible 'thing' Arcanus mentioned a while back." Jane purses her lips in confusion and quirks a brow, but he simply shakes his head. "Later. I think you owe me a movie."


	64. Chapter 64

Garrus

It was obvious the moment they landed on Thessia that the people calling it home wanted absolutely nothing to do with them. Well, maybe they wanted _something,_ but it wasn't exactly the welcome Garrus would have expected from a postwar world.

A massive crowd had swarmed the docks and he could swear their angry shouts and demands were audible within the Normandy. Each scowl, shaken fist, and huge sign sent pangs of irritation through his skull because he knew exactly what it was doing to his wife as she stood at the Starboard Window to watch, arms crossed and body still in an unnerving quiet.

Running a hand over Damocles' head as he plays with his sister on the comfy play area on the floor, Garrus stands and goes to Jane. He wraps his arms around her and gently pulls her hands out of their insistent knot with a soothing thrum. They stay like that, quiet and staring into the masses like waves surging and washing against the Normandy's hull. It's an odd sort of peace in this moment of knowing that they cannot change or unify the galaxy into completely accepting everything they've done during and, now, after the war. While something Garrus can live with, he knows better than trusting the same in his mate.

As if she reads his thoughts, Jane speaks just as someone down below tries to push past a soldier guarding the dock and causes a ripple of movement through the mass of bodies. "Why is it that people either love us or fucking wish us dead?"

He shrugs behind her and chuckles lightly, pulling her to lean back against him. "I don't know about that. The galaxy _loves_ me, no question."

That does the trick. She snorts and shakes her head, causing the buttons in his tunic to tug strands of her red hair from the braid he had given her this morning. "Right. How could I forget? You're everyone's precious little flower."

"What do flowers have to do with it?" he retorts with a feigned huff of indignation, lifting up her hand in his to kiss it tenderly. Looking up to the window just as something bright green splatters against the window, he sighs at the juvenile response it pulls from the rest as they follow suit. He distantly thinks about how the thrower could have a career with that kind of hit from the distance between the ship and crowd gathered, but is distracted by the idea as he watches the - what he assumes to be - food slide down the glass. "Any idea what they're mad about this time?"

"Some such shit. Don't really know from all _that_ ," she says with a motion to the various signs in multiple languages beyond just the Galactic Standard peeking through the splashes of multicolored food remains. "If you can make sense, I'd like to know what the hell I'm being blamed for." Jane chuckles and shrugs. "You'd think they'd have something better to do like, I don't know, _rebuilding their home planet."_

"But, then, how would they throw us such a lovely welcoming celebration? Think of all the food we can make as soon as we go out and shovel the remains into a steaming pot." He chuckles and smiles down to her innocently. "What's that soup thing Gardner used to make? Stew?"

"Ah, yes. What a wonderful meal." She turns a suspicious look up to him. "Maybe I should start learning to cook for the twins. We are so not feeding them food you find on the floor."

"Why not? I hear that's a good way to build immunities," he responds with mock insult. "Do you doubt my parenting skills."

Smirking playfully, she bumps her back against him. "I think you're just trying to justify something to yourself. Something I should know about kid Garrus?" Her brow lifts and smirk turns into a full smile. "Were you one of those kids who ate dirt? It's okay, I won't judge."

He laughs, never hearing of such a thing. The fact that it seems something so believable by her just makes him wonder what other weird things humans eat besides food. "Do humans put everything in their mouths?"

"I never hear you complaining," she retorts with a coy smile and he chuckles, unable to stop himself from leaning down and kissing those taunting lips.

"Maybe later-"

He is interrupted with the doors to the room slide open, Liara stepping in with a smile on her lips, an apology in her eyes, and a bottle of pale amber liquid in her hand. Garrus steps away from his mate to let her greet their friend and follows, surprised with T'Soni pulls Jane into a tight hug.

"Oh! Hey…," Jane says, hand gently, yet awkwardly, patting Liara's back. "This is a thing, then." Garrus chuckles, remembering the hug the other woman pulled Jane into back on Illium during their Collector expedition. When they pull apart, his wife smiles and holds her at arm's length. "Look at you. You look good," she adds with a chuckle and motion to Liara's utilitarian clothes obviously meant for ease in her efforts to be right on the front lines of the rebuilding effort.

Liara huffs a light laugh and looks at her clothes, explaining, "I wanted to get some work in before the Normandy landed." She shrugs and smiles at them as Garrus motions the couch, but she, instead, pulls him into an even more weird hug. He doesn't really like the close contact, but he understands her need just as much as he has come to - he thinks - understand her. "It's so good to see you both."

"And you, as well," he responds with a nod and rumble, once again offering the couch. She moves behind Jane and stops at the twins in their play bed, kneeling with a huge grin to take their little hand in a mock shake.

"Hey. Do you remember me?" She smiles with Damocles grabs for the bottle in her hand and, seeing the possible disaster that could bring, Garrus takes it from her when she holds it back. "Nono, you can't have that. That's only for adults."

"Liquor? This early?" Jane smirks and chuckles taking the bottle when Garrus offers it for her to read the label. "Tsk, tsk. I took you for a civilized woman, but I think this is your krogan coming out."

Liara makes a sound between a huff and snort as she waves over her shoulder. "Please, Shepard. This is different." Giving the children a gentle hug each, she stands and moves to ask for the bottle with her hands. Her eyes look over the label with a soft smile and twinkle in her eyes. "This is a celebratory drink for my people. It's has a low alcohol content, really. I think the closest thing would be champagne, in human terms."

"Damn. I wanted to get shitfaced," Jane says with a devious grin that neither of the others truly believe. She pouts her lip in disappointment before heading to the bar to get glasses. "I'll get some glasses." She stops and looks to Liara. "Unless we're supposed to all drink from the bottle, that is."

"Let's be civilized, Shepard," Liara refers, hitting on Jane's earlier statement, and sits on the wide chair opposite the couch that Garrus takes. She then starts to unwrap the spout of the bottle, releases the top with a loud pop, but, despite what he's seen in vids, the cork does not go flying.

"Well, that's disappointing."

Jane snorts and comes back, offering a glass to Liara and holding the other two for the young woman to pour. "She said _like_ champagne, not that it _is_ champagne. Besides, champagne only does that when you shake it like an asshole."

She chuckles with Liara huffs something about strange human customs and the mess it must make. Once their glasses are full, Jane comes to him and offers the fuller glass and sits directly beside him, leaning her shoulder on his arm. "So. How is rebuilding going? I have to say, Thessia looks like it's really coming along."

Liara nods and looks out the window, frowning at the sight of the thrown food still on its smooth surface. Finally, she sighs heavily and looks to her glass as Garrus takes a experimental sip. He hums in consideration of the odd taste, but leaves it unsaid as Liara speaks. "It's come a long way, but I can't believe my own people would do this." She motions the window in explanation. "We should be celebrating the end of the war with anyone who fought, not turning it into something political and finger pointing."

As Liara takes her own sip, Jane says, "Finger pointing is often a result of people looking for someone to blame because they can't handle the thought of shit just happening at no one's fault." She shrugs. "And it may not justify anything, it's not something that will ever change."

Liara still frowns, but nods lightly in understanding, but Garrus still sees the ideological woman still doesn't accept the act from her own. Jane doesn't speak and he doesn't really know what to say other than what's been said, but he silence is soon broken when Jane tastes the drink in her hand and makes a sound of approval. "Damn. This is good." She takes another, large and very _feminine_ gulp of it. "It's nice and fruity with a hint of spice," she says, receiving an agreeing nod and smile from Liara, and turns to him. "What about you?"

Garrus hums again, considering a way to describe how his own tongue interprets the levo drink. They may taste something sweet with a hint of spice, but with the different amino acid types, he does not get the same idea of taste. "It takes smokey, but I get the spiciness."

"Being dextro sucks," his wife jokes with a bump of her shoulder before turning to Liara. "So…". She trails off, leaving off on the subject they all know is on their lips. "About everything else."

Liara completely understands the direction and nods, cupping her glass in her lap as she thinks over what has to be a massive amount of information. "Yes. I was able to find everyone." She gently rolls the tip of a finger around the rim of her glass and chuckles softly. "Who would you like to start with?"

"As I'm sure you know, we have the illustrious Jimmy Vega already aboard," Garrus says with a snort and embellishment to his words with a waved hand. "We couldn't get rid of him, unfortunately."

"Then who would you have to compare bullshit with?" Jane leans forward to take the bottle from the floor beside Liara's legs, filling her glass before offering him more. He takes it to pour for himself as she continues. "Then there's - of course - Joker, Cortez, Donnelly, Daniels, Traynor, and, as our XO, Arcanus."

"Arcanus as your XO?" Liara quirks one of her delicately painted brows. "I guess that's not too surprising considering." Smiling at something, she shakes her head and takes a sip as she looks down to the children playing. Or, at least, Garrus thinks so because all he really sees is them tumbling and rolling around each other. He assumes it might be a semblance of the rough housing he and Sol used to have as kids, but he's never thought it could be attempted so clumsily. Without looking up from them, she asks, "Is there anyone else you've already had contact with? I know you were visiting Rannoch."

Jane nods, resting her glass on her knee. "Yeah, we saw Tali and Ilden, fought some heretics, blew shit up, and saw everything almost go to hell." She sighs and rubs her forehead with a knuckle and Garrus can see her trying to no return back to her train of thought about that whole situation. "Ash helped us get off Earth and we dropped Kaidan off there. Kasumi was playing some cat-and-mouse game with Spectre Bau and stopped by the Normandy back when we docked on Illium to stock up. We had a job for Feron that brought us up to say hello to Poe and ran into Chakwas and Zaeed - funny enough - together on the Ascension-"

"The doctor and _Zaeed?_ " Liara asks in surprise, blinking rapidly in confusion. "Really?"

Garrus chuckles and nods, lifting his arm to lay on the couch behind Jane's shoulders. "It's true. Seems like he's taking a liking to watching her back when she's helping out in case, you know, something will jump out from under a patient's gown."

His wife shrugs, taking a sip with a coy smirk. "You never know." He chuckles and sees her smile against the rim of her glass before she swallows, setting her glass down. "And that's about all the people we have seen. Well, besides you here and we chatted over comm with Wrex once."

Liara nods and says, "Yes, I'd assumed those with easily obtainable access to QEC would contact you. With Wrex working to unify the krogan into rebuilding instead of solely looking for reparations from the Council, Grunt and his Arhlak company have taken it upon themselves to aid in guarding incoming ships from the other species to help the effort." She smiles and looks to them. "With everyone working together, it's nice to see that the krogan and what they had done in the war is not forgotten."

"Hear, hear," Jane agrees, finishing her drink and setting the glass aside on the couch, wedging it between her thigh and the arm rest. Garrus, too, finishes up his drink and sets the glass aside. "They damn well deserve to be given the same aid as everyone else, even if it ain't shit compared to before the war." Lifting her leg, she rests the side of her thigh on the cushion, boot handing off, and sits sideways to lean on his side beneath his arm. "What about Javik? I'd figure he'd be around somewhere."

"Never thought you'd let the only living Prothean out of your grasp," Garrus adds with a rumble of amusement at Liara's flustered huff.

"Goddess, you make it sound like I was holding him prisoner on the Normandy." She rolls her eyes and gets a chuckle from them both, Jane nodding in agreement. "Well, despite your interpretation of my enthusiasm, Javik has agreed to help me with finally being able to write a factual retelling of Prothean culture. He just wanted to travel to places he remembers from his own cycle first." Liara frowns and stares at her drink. "I understand he wants to honor his men, but I don't know if remembering is the best for him."

Jane frowns and looks down at her hands, causing Garrus to nuzzle her hair in concern. It's obvious Liara cares for the man, that she only wants what's less painful and best for him, and Garrus can't help but see the similarities between hers and Javik and himself and his mate. It's unsettling to realize that even a 'grand race' - and a man like Javik, even - like the Protheans still have to suffer through pain of loss.

"Yeah," his wife eventually says. "I can understand the need to see it out. Sometimes you have to rip off the bandage before the wound can heal." When she goes quiet again with a heavy exhale, Garrus emits a low rumble and lowers his arm around her to let her take his hand. When she does, she leans her head back against his shoulder, eyes closed. "What about people on Earth? Were there any that could be involved in this fucking war with the batarians?"

Liara takes the last of her drink and sets the glass down beside her feet, looking out towards the crowd still raging. "It's such a shame. After such a devastating war." Garrus hum in agreement, but Jane doesn't say a word or move beyond the light squeeze of his hand and the rise and fall of her chest. Liara seems to understand the topic both isn't one they want to discuss nor involve themselves in. Let the Alliance deal with their own wars from now on because, if his human saying knowledge is correct, if Jane gives them an inch, the Alliance brass will take a mile.

Attentions come back to the conversation at hand when the soft chirps and yips of excitement from Damocles and Cassia's play break the silence. Like a wave of warmth, the sound pushes aside the plethora of emotions the mention of loss and war has brought. Garrus feels it in the way that his wife relaxes that she's ready to continue, and Liara, skilled in observation after the years together, continues.

"Engineer Adams is currently working in an Alliance instructional school teaching new engineering students. Looks like he's done travelling through space in the engineering deck of madmen and women," she teases with a quirk of her lips, laughing at Jane's scoff.

"Please, it was all Joker and his piloting." When Cassia walks over to her, Liara picks the infant into her lap with a coo, but Damocles decides he isn't one for company and, instead, climbs into Jane's lap. "All played out, huh?" she asks him with a smile, scratching along his throat and making him purr loudly. Chuckling, she pulls him to sit against her and looks back to their friend smoothing Cassia's clothes out. "So, I take it Jack is somewhere with her students? How are they?"

"They're good. Your advice to keep them as support really saved lives." Liara smiles when Cassia's hands curiously examine the pockets and straps of the older woman's outfit. "Looking back at it now, even the Alliance admits that they weren't ready for front line assaults. They already took enough damage at is was."

"Damage?" Garrus frowns in concern, hoping something hadn't happened to Jack. Out of many of their friends, Jack was one person that Jane made the biggest impact, it seems. His mate was able to change the woman in a way that she could turn her rage, her pain, into something that would bring her her own happiness while still keeping her the woman she would always be. Harsh and rude as she was, Jack was loyal and, he knew, would die for who and what she cared for. It was that reasoning that concerned him.

Offering a smile of reassurance, Liara nods gently. "Everyone made it out, a few scars and broken bones among them. Jack," she says, her smile turning sympathetic. "Jack lost her arm." She holds up a hand to stop any interruption. "She was protecting her students when they were cornered by Reaper forces. They were able to defend against nearly all of them until a Brute approached. Her students were too weak to keep up their biotics without rest, so she distracted it in order to buy them time to run. She ended up with a bad break that was treated fast enough and they had to amputate."

Jane hums before chuckling. "Hey, she's better than the other guy. No question she killed the thing with her bare hands, I bet." Liara chuckles and nods in the affirmative to the very likely scenario. "Samara?" At that, Liara's amusement dies and her eyes seem to focus everywhere but Garrus and his wife. Her hesitance is the two of them need to see before Garrus already understands what she will say.

"Samara… didn't make it," she whispers. "I'm sorry, Shepard."

"Fuck," Jane whispers herself, sighing and hugging Damocles to her. He trills in surprise, but, as if realizing his mother's need, doesn't struggle to pull away. "She went down fighting, though?"

Garrus only sees Liara nod in his peripheral, too distracted by easing Jane's frustration by starting to caress her side. "It was here, on Thessia. After the Reapers hit, they started to hunt down people, drag them from their shelters, and… and try to…" She shakes her head, unable to continue with the thought.

From what Garrus had heard and read, the Reapers weren't outright killing people, but collecting them, _harvesting_ them, and transporting them into Reaper vessels. After everything he has gone through with the bastards, he didn't even need to wonder what the reason was. The Reapers were building up their supplies of people to build another of their kind.

"It's alright, Liara," he says, clicking his mandibles softly when she looks up to him, eyes glistening with tears. "I know she fought well to save them. She's never one to stand by and watch the innocent suffer."

Liara nods and wipes a palm over her cheeks to catch the stray drops that trailed over them. Sniffling, she offers a reassuring smile to a concerned baby in her lap before gently kissing Cassia's forehead. "I'm sorry. I just… I'm still trying to get over it. I don't think I ever will."

"It's not easy to. We will all have the scars."

She nods and bounces her knees, jostling Cassia enough to get her to squeal and giggle loud. The peels of laughter help her mood as she laughs softly and takes the baby's hands to hold her upright. A few more bounces and his daughter seems to have soothed Liara's memories as she smiles and pulls the turian baby closer to her chest.

"No more about death," she exclaims, but it seems to be a demand of herself and not the others. Let her do what she needs to get through the pain and function, Garrus thinks, but hopefully she will learn a way to actually move on, or there will be no hope for his own mate. If someone like Liara can't do it, then how would he be able to help Jane?

Jane nods and teases their son with a soft tap on his nose, making him growl and playfully jump at her hand. "What about Miranda? Dr Michel? Or anyone still on the Citadel? Didn't they send an exploration team?"

"The Council sent in a team to both examine the state of the station and test to see if there were any residual effects from the Reapers. There were so many rumors circulating about their occupation that they had originally quarantined the entire Citadel until they received the results from this team's tests. Dr Michel to aid in examining any bodies they may find for cause of death if it wasn't apparent." Shaking her head, she says, "But they haven't reported back. It's been well over the estimated time that was guessed for the mission, but there hasn't even been communication requesting more time or explaining the cause of the delay. Any attempts to contact the team bring nothing and the Council officials in charge of the operation fear that communications into the station are still being jammed and their team could be in serious trouble."

"Are they doing anything about it? Why has it taken them so long to get their heads out of their asses?" Jane sits up, offering Damocles to Garrus, which is best if her irritation is rising as she's bound to start either shouting or pacing. Perhaps both. "I don't get it. Why wait so damn long? What if they're already dead? Jesus fucking Christ!"

"Shepard," Liara intones, holding Cassia to her hip as she stands and comes over to sit beside them. "The protocol was to give them at least six weeks to take samples, run tests, observe the Citadel's state, and everything else they had to do to answer _all_ of the Council's questions. It hasn't been until after that time that they started to worry."

Groaning in frustration, Jane stands and walks to the window to stare out, most likely glaring into the distance. "So now what? What will they do to find the team? Or look for survivors on the Citadel? Dammit, Liara, we had friends there!" She looks over her shoulder. "Even if they're probably fucking dead, they deserve to at least be looked for."

"I know. And I'm sorry." The asari looks to Garrus for help.

He holds up a hand to her in silent plea to come sit back down with him. With a sigh, she takes it and plops down heavily, body limp as she stares at the grimy window. "If we have to," he says hesitantly, knowing this is the last thing he wants to do. "We can investigate."

The words are bitter on his tongue, drying his throat the moment they leave. The last thing he wants is more work for them - and at his own offer, at that - but he knows it was the right thing to do when he sees her emerald eyes turn to him. He doesn't want to let her into the unknown of the Citadel, but he can't bear to see her in so much pain. He damned either way, but, at least, this way he can be by her side and protect her.

"If you plan on going," Liara says, catching Jane's eyes with her own around Garrus' body. "I have reports that Miranda is vying to get access as well as the Council is sending in another, smaller, team. There's even someone you know." When Garrus rumbles in question and Jane lifts a brow, Liara nods. "Kolyat has volunteered to be part of the search party."

"He's an idiot," Jane states, but sighs. "But we're going to be there with them, so we'll have his back." She looks up to him and smiles sadly, mouthing 'Thank you.'

Purring deeply, he squeezes her hand. "Liara?" He turns to the woman in question. "Have you heard anything from my dad and Sol? How are they on Palaven?"

She smiles, the tone lightening and the gesture assuring him all is well before she says, "They're very good. I haven't spoken to them personally, but the agent that's watching out for them says they've found a small home outside of Cipritine that they were able to barter for thanks to _the Primarch,_ himself." Chuckling at his raised brow plate, she shrugs. "Something about the turian people owing it to the Vakarians even if the one in question isn't personally planetside."

Jane laughs and sits up. "Well, I'll be. Looks like you still have pull, Garrus." She elbows him and he chuckles. "Now we have somewhere to stay besides a mattress on the floor like Rannoch."

"Mattress on the floor?" Liara quirks a brow and gives them a confused look. "What?"

"She wanted to sleep under the stars," Garrus explains.

"You have a window above your bed."

"Then she wanted a reason to have sex in a sleeping bag?"

His mate snorts. "If that was all I wanted, I'd have just taken a sleeping bag into bed." Leaning back, she stretches her arms over the back of the couch and sighs loudly as she lets her head fall back. "Well, shitty as it was. I'm glad to hear about everyone. Maybe you can give us their contacts? It might not make it through to all of them, but at least we can try."

Liara nods beside him even if Jane definitely won't see it at her angle. "Of course." Biting her lip, she looks up to Garrus. "And I'm sorry for not helping back on Earth. It was foolish of me to put my own worries before doing the simple task of hiding yours and your family's identities." He moves to wave it off, the anger at it just not there or worth the stress anymore, but she speaks again. "If there's anything I can do to make it up to you."

Just as he's about to tell her it's nothing she has to make up for, he gets a thought. Shifting on the couch, he turns to her with a smirk. "Actually, if you're offering, then I'd like you to have a little chat with Arcanus. If you insist to owing us anything, it's to listen to what he has to say about a plan of ours and at least consider it."

"Do I want to know?"

"Probably not," Jane huffs from her place at his opposite side and he glances her way.

"Jane, we _will_ retire. I'll make damn sure of it." Turning back to Liara, he grins with a growl. "And I'm going to be calling in that favor for you to help us do it."


	65. Chapter 65

Jane

Walking Liara off the Normandy will be the first time they, or any of the crew, have stepped off ship for anything beyond the necessities of keeping everything running. The entire situation is just too explosive right now that any spark could ignite the already dangerous crowd into a possible riot. Liara managed to weather the masses, so it seems only fair for Jane and her mate to join her at least to the end of the guarded docks.

"Maybe when things calm down, you can bring the twins back to see Thessia?" Liara asks with a smile, holding a small datapad Arcanus had given her after they had all covered their possible - insane - plans for their future.

"When everyone and their mother are no longer asking us to wipe their asses," Jane promises with a chuckle, having to raise her voice to be heard over the enraged shouts and insults thrown their way. _At least they seem to have run out of food_. "Maybe then the kids will have more to say than 'fuck'."

Their friend snorts and shakes her head, her gesture speaking measures to just what she thinks of the moment when Damocles told her his favorite word when she tried to coax speech out of the two children. Garrus, on the other hand, simply wraps an arm around Jane's shoulders with a rumbling chuckle. "At this rate, I say he'll _at least_ know a few more curse words," he says with a teasing smirk down to her.

"Ass," is all she offers before turning to Liara. "Keep us updated, yeah? If we're busy, you have Arcanus' comm channel. Hell," she adds with a huff of a laugh and grin. "You'd be better off calling him first, anyways, with that shit. I have no clue what to do with whatever you give me. I can run a ship, but running that kind of operation is his thing."

"And, by the sounds of it, yours too."

Garrus hums and nods as they make their way to the descending steps of the dock, where a skycar waits within the barricade of guards to shuttle Liara off to safety from the idiocy plaguing the area. It's a sound that tells just how much he's actually considering this crazy idea, this plan to aid Arcanus, in some way, in building a band of soldiers of his own. Well, _their_ own, according to him and, while she doesn't doubt his sincerity, do they even have what it takes to run something like that? Her own command and control comes from the fact that it's all military and - despite her frustrations with it - superiors to look to for orders when she's stumped.

Now, though? Now, it will be only the three of them at the top, and it scares the living shit out of her.

"Shepard?" Liara's voice snaps her out of her thoughts and Jane realizes they've stopped at their parting point. "Are you okay?" she asks with a concerned frown.

Jane chuckles softly and smiles reassuringly. "Yeah. Just thinking."

"Uh oh," her mate says absently beside her as he occupies himself with scanning the crowd. His ever present vigilance is enduring and, in an odd and attractive way, telling of just how much he has her six.

She forgoes the elbow she'd have thrown his way for giving their friend an exasperated look. "Anyway, it's nothing. Still reeling a bit from the whole 'retirement' plans everyone seems to be having."

"You don't want it?" she asks with a confused quirk of her brows and Jane shakes her head to ensure that's quite the contrary.

"Fuck yes, I do," she says immediately. "It's the rest that seems unreal. Actually finding a way out? That's just… Hell, I don't know what to call-"

Her words cut off suddenly into a grunt as a tight grip wraps around her shoulder and yanks her aside. Stumbling slightly at Garrus' yank, she hears the hiss of something speeding past her ear and, in that instant, realization hits as she realizes what the hell that just was. As reality rushes back from the seemingly slow motion dodge, she hears the crowd start to scream and panic, erupting more into a riot than orderly escape.

Her mate snarls, releases her arm, and storms into the crowd for the shooter. He's unarmed, unarmored, and going after an enemy she didn't see. Obviously, he had, or he wouldn't have been able to use that creepy super speed to save her from having a neat, new hole in her head. Still, she hates seeing him intent and hunting for the bastard that tried to kill her with nothing but he talons, teeth, and rage.

"Shit!" She starts to take the steps two at a time, all but jerking a gun from one of the confused and stunned guard's hands. "You!" She points to the now disarmed asari. "Alert the Normandy of what's happened. Tell my pilot to send out my men to secure the ship." Her head snaps to the other guard and the other woman seems to wither under the enraged glare. "Give me your gun." As the asari obeys without question as Jane grabs the assault rifle as she steps aside for the other to rush up the stairs. "Your pistol," Jane says as she holds a rifle in each hand, unable to really put them anywhere else. "Give it to her," she demands with a jerk of her chin to Liara.

Weapons in hand, Jane shoulders through the crowd that, finally, no longer gives a shit about her. Either that, or they figure it's not worth trying to challenge a woman with _two_ assault rifles and her pistol wielding friend. _Dammit. Where are you?_

_**Follow my Tool signal. I've tracked the shooter.** _

_That's it? Won't give me anything else to go by?_

_**Eclipse.** _

_Fuck_.

Grumbling, Jane stops and switches on the safety of a rifle before tucking it under her arm. She quickly opens her Omni-Tool and begins to locate his own, finding him ahead of them by at least a block. _Leave it to those damn grasshopper legs_.

With a nod to Liara that they're on the move, she pulls the rifle back in hand and starts to run. Any unlucky enough civilian in the way is ploughed over if they can't get out of the way fast enough, but it's all worth it. Both for Garrus' sake and her own desire to show these asshole protesters not to bite the hand that helped them out of the fucking Reaper war.

An Eclipse vanguard patrols along a street before a - surprise, surprise - warehouse not yet completely reclaimed by Thessian official businesses. With the way construction supplies are piled around the base of the building, it seems like this is either a temporary station - perhaps for today only and their attempt on her life - or the merc company has some part in the rebuilding of this building.

Her inner musings are answered when a series of events happen in quick succession. The electric flare of an Overload surrounds an engineer just stepping out onto the street and he sends a high wail into the sky. As the vanguard turns to the flash and scream, Garrus moves from the shadows she was steps away from and grabs her, hand on her chin and other just below her crests. With a jerk of his wrists, her neck twists unnaturally and he drops her in a sprint to Jane's own position. Just as he slides into cover beside her, she slaps a weapon in his hand and snaps off her own as boot stomps storm from the building, showing a small band of Eclipse.

"Remind me later to tell you how hot that just was," she says as gunfire begins to fly over their position. " _After_ I punch you for running out with no weapons." He merely hums as he lifts from cover and begins to lay down fire in calculated bursts.

As Liara peeks out to suspend a pair of mercs in a Singularity, Jane Charges a lone vanguard. It takes the asari by surprise and breaks down her barrier, giving Jane the perfect opening to slam a boot down on the woman's knee. The loud snap seems to bounce off the walls of the buildings, rippling down the street, and the merc screams as the limb bends in the opposite way.

Sufficiently taken out of the fight, the woman doesn't have a chance when Jane grabs her and spins her, pinning the woman to her chest as a shield. The move prevents her from using her weapon, but it does do the job as intended and the woman soaks up the weapons fire meant for the redhead as she backs towards cover. Tossing aside the riddled and now limp merc aside, Jane drops behind a skycar further ahead from Garrus and Liara's position.

She peeks around her cover, a feeling like a cold wave flowing through her spine and down to her left hand as she prepares a ball of dark energy to take control of one of the remaining merc. There are five remaining mercs and six mechs - one less when its head explodes into a spray of sparks - heading their way. Targeting an engineer, she unleashes her ability to enthrall him and watches as he first twitches unnaturally before turning on his own, raising his weapon, and raining gunfire into an unsuspecting asari. The others soon realize what's happening and turn on him while Liara drags three of the mechs into a Singularity.

Jane Reaves a vanguards barriers just before Garrus takes her down with a rapid fire shot to the temple. As her body falls against another and throws him enough off balance for Jane to miss her shot, the last mercenary rapidly jerks his head between the armed assault and his fellow mercenaries. In a panic, he tosses his weapon aside and starts to run, his long legs pumping fast.

When Jane moves to mow down the remaining mechs standing before them, she hears the heavy footsteps of Garrus running up beside her. Without a thought towards the enemy and surely knowing Jane and Liara both have his back, he remains standing, steadies his weapon, and fires three of the burst fire weapon's shots. They whip past the now destroyed mech just as it begins to fall and slam into the fleeing salarian's back, all three flinging him further across the pavement and coming to a stop face down in the center of an empty intersection of streets.

_Damn. Nice shot._

_**It's sort of unfair now. The Leviathans really made it too easy.** _

She snorts at the hint of disappointment in his voice at not having to work as hard to make a shot. Not that it was all that big a challenge for him in the first place. Standing, she shoulders her weapon and pats him on the arm. "There, there. If it makes you feel better, you can always miss on purpose like you did on the Presidium."

"You weren't supposed to know about that," he says with a huff of mock dejection before rounding their cover on the way towards the fallen. "Besides, I _never_ miss a shot for anything but making you do that adorable gloating."

"I am _not_ adorable."

"Yes, you are, Shepard," Liara teases with a smirk, joining in on the hounding. Jane narrows her eyes, but the gesture doesn't seem to have any effect as their asari friend merely walks past her to join Garrus on his examination of the bodies to check vitals.

"You both know I'm still holding a weapon, right?"

"A weapon with only one more shot." Garrus' correction makes her stop on her way to them, looking down at the weapon in her hand just to have enough ammunition to challenge his count. Despite her every hope she could rub his inaccuracy in his face, he proves right, the shit head.

Tightening her lips into a thin line, she narrows her eyes at his smug look he's throwing her over his shoulder and stomps heavily to join him. "I can still use it on you, Vakarian."

"Then who would you have around to scrub your back or brush your hair?"

She blows a snort of air between her lips. "I'll just chop it all off and save myself the time detangling it."

"Shepard! Garrus!" Liara calls from the doorway of the building, waving them over. "Come look!"

A quick glance in curiosity passes between the lovers before they rush over to see what's given Liara's voice a confused and excited tilt. Climbing the few steps, Jane follows the woman's point to a familiar shape - well, _pair_ of shapes. One sends chills down her spine, but she isn't set on which one it is just yet.

"Verner?!" she shouts with a wide eyes and open mouthed look at the bound man sitting on the dusty ground next to a very recognizable dark orb containing a flowing, color shifting orb. "What the hell are you doing here?" _And what the fuck do the Leviathan have to do with this?_

_**The Eclipse attack all makes sense.** _

Ignoring him, Jane steps into the threshold of the building and scans quickly for any booby traps. Not seeing any or feeling the sensation in her gut telling her things aren't as they seem any more than the initial pair of surprises, she shoulders her weapon again and moves to Conrad Verner. "You have some explaining to do. How long have you been tied up near that thing?" she all but demands as she grabs his bound arms to help him to his feet.

"Oh, wow. It's so cool to see you guys again," Conrad says with a grin before frowning at Garrus as he approaches, firing on the orb to destroy it. "Except you. You're an asshole."

Jane can't help it and chuckles, grinning at her husband. "That he is." Helping Verner walk, his legs stiff from the long period kneeling, she helps him down onto the street and ignores his shocked sound of something that sounds a tad bit like awe. "Conrad. You still haven't answered me."

"Huh?" His eyes finally turn to her and he smiles, blushing a bit guiltily. "I might have come here because I was trying to see if I could get onto the Destiny Ascension to catch a glimpse of you when you eventually came back." His eyes widen and look over her shoulder, saying rapidly, "But I swear I wouldn't bother her!"

"Ignore him, Verner," she says, feeling her mate at her back. "Did they capture you or did you join them? How long have you been near that orb?"

Verner shakes his head, seeming to not notice how none of them have unstrapped his hands for his own safety. The last thing they want is to have to hurt him if the Leviathans planted some kind of subliminal command in his head to try and do something to them. After all, even with the orb destroyed, they still don't know enough about how they work. Hell, Jane's pretty sure that even Dr Bryson had no clue about the effect on the two of them when they had gone down on Desponia.

"I haven't been here very long. I was at the docks," he says before shaking his head with a frown and slight tsk noise. "Those people don't know what they're doing. How could they be so mad at you when you saved everyone? I mean, you're not really a nice person, but I get it now."

That surprises her and she shrugs, not sure what to say to that. She knows she's a bitch, but to be told someone understands? And it be _Verner_ of all people? She's stunned into silence.

"They grabbed me when everyone started throwing food, and no one could really hear me because everyone else was screaming and pushing." He looks up to the building and motions with his chin. "They brought me here and kept asking me weird questions about my dissertation."

"Dissertation?" Liara asks with a slight tilt to her head, lifting a delicately painted brow. "On what?"

"Isn't a dissertation some kind of college paper? Big shit?" Jane interrupts, completely lost, and Conrad nods emphatically.

"Oh, yeah. I have a degree in Xenoscience and wrote a dissertation on dark energy." He grins. "I can send it to you, if you want?"

Liara steps forward and nods, smiling. "I'd like to see it."

 _Dark energy._ "Holy fuck," she says as she releases Conrad's arm and puts a hand to her head. "Jesus Christ, they're still trying to fix the dark energy problem now that the Reapers didn't pan out." Eyes widening, she jerks her eyes up to Verner. "We need you." He blushes and she snorts at the ideas that had to have brought to mind, but she pushes it aside, remembering everything she saw on the Citadel before the end. "The Reapers were trying to figure out a solution to the dark energy problem trying to destroy the universe."

"You mean the expansion? Yeah, it's really bad, but how?"

"Trust me, you don't want to know," she responds with a short pacing session beginning, trying to lay it out in layman's terms as best she could comprehend. "They were fucked and didn't make a difference that would last. Point is, we need to solve it ourselves."

"I… hear that scientists are currently examining and trying to develop possible hypotheses," Liara says with a clearing of her throat, hinting to Jane and Garrus that she knows for sure and definitely has a hand in it. _Good._

"They could use you to help, Conrad."

"Me?" he questions, looking at Jane with the wide eyed expression of a deer in headlights. "But…"

"But any extra set of eyes will help. Even if we don't solve it now, it can help future scientists to fix this, or find a way to slow it." Jane puts a hand on his shoulder, smiling in silent plea to listen to everything they can't tell him. Of all the information they now have that could very well blow the minds of anyone who hadn't seen the shit the Normandy has over the years.

Verner looks between all three of them and pulls the corner of his lip down in indecision, pulling a sigh from Garrus as he steps around Jane. The man steps back with a worried and timid look up to the towering turian, but her mate is gentle as he speaks. "I wanted to apologize for my reaction on Illium. Saying it was stress doesn't justify it. But the entire galaxy can use your knowledge no matter what you may think of me."

Conrad's eyes flicker over her husband's scarred features before he nods. "Yeah, okay. But how? I don't know where to even start."

Jane motions him to spin around so she can take a look at his binds. "We might have some connections still. I know the quarians have been looking into it with the geth." Seeing just a set of tightly knotted ropes, she looks to Garrus for help. He nods and steps closer, pulling off his glove. His talons shear through the rope easily enough and she begins to unwind the binding. "I'm sure every species is bound to be looking into it."

"If not…" Liara considers her words for a moment. "We still have a connection with the Shadow Broker from the war and I know he would have information on who is looking of a scientist who knows dark energy."

Tossing aside the rope, Jane nods when the man turns back around. The irony of this conversation happening with the Shadow Broker herself no longer as the mysterious entity they once knew the information broker as not lost on her. "She's right. As much as I like having favors owed, dealing with the Broker is risky business. I'd much rather get it over with and have our slates clear."

After some thought, Verner finally nods. "Yeah, okay. Whatever I can do to help, Shepard."

Liara smiles warmly and offers a hand. "I'm Liara T'Soni," she says when he takes the human gesture she's picked up after so long on the Normandy. "I'll help you. Thessia's comm connection is stronger than the Normandy."

He smiles that giddy, naive smile Jane remembers from that first time meeting on the Citadel and worries for the Broker agent that will have to deal with him. Good guy or not, she's sure he's over enthusiasm has the capacity to turn even the most polite hanar into a raving lunatic after some time. Hopefully occupying his mind with the difficult work of devising a way to save the galaxy will help calm him.

One can only hope.


	66. Chapter 66

Garrus

The obvious signs of preparation for war are obvious the moment the Normandy lands in the Alliance docking yard. Standing beside his wife at the head of the Galaxy Map, he sees the exact moment realization hits the remaining Alliance crew. They had chosen to remain on the Normandy and avoid the war, but the fact of a war with what remains of the batarian people hits them hard when the truth lies just beyond the Normandy's walls.

Garrus still considers the human leaders completely useless idiots. Going to war against a people barely hanging onto existence will only create a victory won by spending useless lives on both sides. No matter how assured the Alliance is, the batarians will still try to take any and as many human soldiers as they can once backed into a corner. After all, the Hegemony has already proven how little value a life holds when its loss presents the opportunity to kill or maim many more.

"What a bunch of idiots," his mate says beside him with a rub to her temple, frustration seeping off her in waves of tension. "Earth still looks like shit and they're running off to fight another war."

Garrus simply nods with a hum. Saying anything more would just be to repeat her, and he'd much rather not feed her irritation. He knows that her - and his - control will be tested when they have to address the Alliance brass representative in order to alert and approve the Normandy's entrance in the air space around the Citadel. Spectre authority or not, the Alliance can still make their mission a pain in the cloaca with their looming presence and empty threats of retaliation to anything suspicious.

As much power as he and Jane are _supposed_ to hold, fear and anger is a difficult obstacle to pass and the human people certainly have enough of it right now. Especially when, according to the reports from the docking crew, the Earth's media feeds the hysteria instead of calming the situation. It seems that so much of the galaxy feeds on the twisting of the truth and adrenaline rush of falsely perceived danger and Garrus fails to understand the urge to blow things out of proportion.

"Shepard, Garrus." Traynor looks up from her terminal once she has their attention. "A representative from the Alliance has accepted your request to speak with them about the Citadel. The second Council team still waiting to get approval will be there too."

"Good. Maybe, with them, we can get the fucking Alliance to grow a brain."

" _Hey, Shepard,"_ Joker calls over the comm from the cockpit, a hint of excitement in his voice. " _Looks like another bad influence on the twins is on her way."_

Garrus rumbles in question, sharing a look with his wife, before he soon understands. His realization seems to happen in time with hers as he watches a wide grin spread over her lips. _Jack._

"About damn time she's shown her face." Spinning on the spot, Jane heads for the lift. "Joker, where is she-" The doors slide open to reveal the practical twin of Garrus' foul mouthed mate, the powerful biotic grinning maniacally as she storms out of the elevator and throws a rough punch to Jane's shoulder with her false arm.

Jane grunts, rubbing her shoulder as Garrus steps down with a flickering of his mandibles and thrum of amusement at a Jack so different from the guarded biotic they met what feels like lifetimes ago. He prepares to receive a punch of his own and chuckles when she happens to choose his own prosthetic arm, her brow raising in intrigue at his lack of response. "Tough guy bullshit, huh?"

She smirks and prepares another before Jane snorts and says, "He won't really react." Reaching over, she raps a knuckle on his shoulder. "It's fake. You're twinsies."

"No shit?" The biotic steps back and smirks, crossing her arms. "What the hell happened to you?"

"I tried to catch a flying Mako with my hands."

She barks a laugh as Jane snorts, following suit. "You dumbass," Jack says as she looks Jane over. "And you? What stupid shit did you get into? Or did he finally one up you?"

"Nope," his mate says with a - crazy enough - proud smirk. "I got myself a whole new pair of legs. They really tend to pop when I wear short shorts."

"And you're still just as short," Jack retorts and gets a glare that pulls another boisterous laugh that even Garrus joins in.

"I should've airlocked you both when I had the chance."

"Don't be so short tempered," Garrus says, smirking at her searing glare and making Jack snort again.

"Leave the jokes to someone who knows how to pull that shit off." Dropping her arms, she looks over the artificial limb of her own that starts just above her elbow and even has some new markings of its own to match the rest of her. He can only assume either she or someone she knows managed to find paint made to withstand whatever the metal arm would be put through.

Even her hairstyle and chosen clothing has changed to match the colder weather of Earth. Grown out, one side of her head is shaved short like when they first met and the other hangs loose, draped over one side of her face and shoulder. Her clothes, he's surprised to say, seem more modest with studded pants and thick, fur topped jacket cut to just above her stomach. How she manages to stay warm still showing that much skin, he'll never know.

Raising a single brow, Jack glances between Jane and Garrus. "You fucks going to take me to see those brats of yours or do I have to ask?"

"You've gotten soft, Jack," Jane says with a chuckle and motions to follow as she passes on the way to the elevator.

"Fuck you. I'm just curious."

"Uh huh." Last to enter, Garrus hits the access for the Loft. "We won't be able to stick around for long, but you're free to stick around. Actually, you know what? Stay. I might be able to get Steve and James to cook for us so I don't have to make my own dinner."

"Food, huh? Better be better than the Alliance shit." Leaning against the handrail of the lift, she lifts her chin and narrows her eyes. "What about my kids?"

Jane shrugs as the doors slide open. "You're free to bring them if you trust them to keep quiet about the twins. It's not like they're a secret, but anything to keep the spotlight off them is better than everyone losing their shit again."

"You can trust them. If not, I'll knock some sense into them," Jack assures as she follows them into the Loft and whistles. "Still living like fucking kings and queens? Lucky bastards."

"Trust me," Garrus says as Jane heads into the nursery to check and see if the twins are awake and willing to see to guests. "It's not worth the hassle."

"Right, because what I really want is a shitty bed, no fancy couches, and my own bathroom."

He shrugs just as Jane calls the all clear from the nursery. Motioning Jack to go first, Garrus follows and stays at the threshold, leaning on the open door way. At first, she seems to not know what to do and he remembers how, during their first meeting, she seems completely lost on how to tend to the tiny babies. Shockingly, Jack only takes a few seconds to look at her artificial hand before stepping past Jane and towards a curious Cassia and Damocles standing in their cribs.

"Hey, you little bastards," she says with a smile and reaches out to Cassia as the young child does the same, their hands coming together with Cassia taking Jack's finger in her own little ones. Damocles trills and makes a gesture of grasping at air for attention and Jack snorts, offering her other hand. "Spoiled little brat, aren't you?" She glances back with a smirk before rubbing his head. "You need to stop babying them."

Jane snorts and crosses her arms, leaning against the small wardrobe in the room. "You shitting me? I'm coddling the fuck out of them."

"Fook," Damocles says with a proud chirp and flap of his mandibles and Jack bursts into laughter.

"Holy shit! You _taught_ him that!" She laughs harder when Jane shakes her head with a shrug. Her amusement at their expense nearly sends her to her knees as her face reddens and she hiccups in gasps of breath.

"Holy…" She snorts and stands straight, leaning on Cassia's crib. "You are idiots," she says with a smirk, still snickering, and turns to their son. "Good job, little shit. You may not be so bad after all."

"Thanks," Garrus deadpans. "The last thing we want is for you not to like our children because they don't have your colorful language. Or their mother's."

"At least you know they're yours, Shepard," she remarks, her entire attention on teasing the babies by waving her hands out of their reach.

" _Uh, Shepard? Garrus?"_ Traynor rarely uses the comms to get their attention and, when her voice fills the Loft with her voice, Jane curses and Garrus sighs at the only reason. If only avoidance and forgetfulness was a proper excuse to skip this meeting and send someone in their stead. " _I'm sorry to bother you, but the Alliance representative is requesting your presence to discuss the… you know."_

"Meeting about going to the Citadel," Jane says, looking to Jack with a shrug of 'don't ask'. "Jack doesn't care about hearing it."

"Damn right." She grabs some toy called a 'teddy bear' and starts to wiggle it in front of the twins. Waving her free hand, she says, "Get your assess over there and talk to that Alliance asshole."

"You really want to be with them?" Jane raises a brow and stands up. "You? With _them_?"

"Think I'm going to drop them or something?" Jack throws her a glare and snorts. "I'm not fucking stupid. And if I can't do something or they start bitching, I'll call someone."

Garrus chuckles at Jane's lift of her hands in defense with a smile. Backing away, she motions him to follow on the way to the lift. "Don't tattoo them! Not without my approval!" She chuckles and grins innocently when he gives her a stern look of 'absolutely not'. "What?" she says with a hit to the command for the command level. "It won't be something shitty."

"I'd like them to decide for themselves what they'd like permanently stuck to their body."

Snorting, she nudges him with her shoulder and takes his hand. "Alright. I'll make that deal if you get one."

"I already have one… on my face," he says with a hum and motion to his facial paints.

"Doesn't count." She smirks and gives him a blatant look up and down. "I think my name on your ass would do."

"I think _my_ name would look better on _your_ ass." Thinking about it, he nods in agreement. "Definitely. I can imagine it now."

"Like you need more reason to get a grope in," she retorts with a huff and pulls him with her as they step out into the CIC, heading for the airlock. "Joker, Aelia, keep an ear to the Loft in case Jack realizes she doesn't like kids again."

"You kidding? I'm not ratting her out," Joker says with a swing of his chair around. "I'll leave that to my _wonderful_ co-pilot."

Aelia hums, unmoved by the compliment. "I'm off duty," she lies as her fingers click over the terminal before her. Joker pulls his lips tight and narrows his eyes at the woman, but doesn't speak. Instead, he pulls his hat down over his brows and spins his chair to sulk. It's good, Garrus considers, to see the man's moods lift with the news that Legacy is aiding Rym in repairing and returning EDI to her previous state.

When they exit the Normandy, they are assaulted by the same sight and sounds as on Thessia. Luckily, no food is being thrown yet, but shouts and hovering cameras have flooded the docking area, pushing against the armed Alliance barriers. Reporters demand answers of anything from the current war preparations, their actions as Spectres, where their 'victory tour' - which does not even exist - will take them, and all the way to their personal lives. Every question is thrown at them with the vitriol of the accusing and self imposed victims who believe they are the only ones thrown by the destruction and confusion of the nearly two years of the Reapers and the aftermath of their attempted harvest.

His mate steels herself, her hand tightening around his own, and she avoids each and every look and scream for attention. They have grown so used to their efforts and losses in the war being thrown back in their faces as nothing but burdens or failures to the rest of the galaxy that none of it bothers them. Words do nothing to them, and these people are all too afraid for action, so why should Garrus and Jane even given them so much as a passing glance?

The Alliance shows some sort of intelligence as an escort directs them to follow towards a small communications station nearby on the raised docks. It's not necessarily the best place for important talks of Spectre authority overriding any and all Alliance protocol, but it's more preferable to trying to make their way through the raging crowd and to an official Alliance post. It also benefits the two of them as, once done with these talks, they can easily move out to the Normandy without having to deal with more politicking and chest puffing than they solely need to get to the Citadel.

"The Major will meet with you just beyond this door, sirs," the escort, a lieutenant, says with a stiff stance of attention. "The Citadel exploration team is already present."

Jane nods. "Very well." Returning the man's salute, she then pats his arm roughly. "I'm not really with the Alliance, so you don't have to be formal with us. But I get it if you don't want to get your ass ripped, so… dismissed?"

The man smiles slightly and ducks his chin in a half nod. "Yes, ma'am. And… good luck. We've all been wondering what's been happening up there, and anything but news on the war would be great."

Garrus hums and watches his wife head for the door, staying back long enough to speak to the man. If anything, he has to make sure people like this lieutenant don't get ideas in their heads that the Citadel was untouched, still the untouched oasis the galaxy believed it to be. "What we bring back might not be as you expect." The man frowns and his eyes darken with disappointment. "The Reapers held the Citadel for a reason."

"Y...yeah…" The lieutenant rubs his neck and drops his head, stepping away.

Rejoining his wife, Garrus ignores the questioning look in her green eyes. He knows she wouldn't have been the one to break the man, that she's ready and willing to give hope to those who look for it, but he isn't. He's learned to see what's left over from a war as it is over the years. If humans had, as well, then they wouldn't be so enthusiastic for another war.

"Shepard?" A voice containing a very recognizable rasp calls and Jane smiles, looking towards a blue scaled drell coming their way. "It really _is_ you guys," Kolyat says with a shake to their hands, his C-Sec blues showing clear signs of wear. "I guess you're the Council representatives here to try and get the Alliance to let us through?"

"More than that," Jane says as she motions to lead the way. "We're joining your team. Who all is with you? Anyone we know?"

He shakes his head. "Not that I know of. Most of us are from C-Sec and volunteered to help. The first group was mostly C-Sec too with a few doctors, but we're going in solely with the intent of finding the last team." Frowning, he adds, "Or what happened to them and why they went silent."

"I didn't think C-Sec would involve themselves in this," Garrus says as they approach a closed, frosted glass door. "Wouldn't they have thin enough numbers patrolling the Ascension with what's left of their numbers?"

"The Citadel is still in C-Sec's jurisdiction. The Council wants news of its state, but can't just send multiple Spectres there. Well," he corrects, looking between the two of them before reaching for the door. "I guess they don't mind sending you two."

"Who says they know?" Jane asks with a coy smirk at the boy's shocked expression, but simply walks past and into the room filled with a set of Alliance guards, a group of C-Sec officers made up of two asari, one turian male, and a human female, and one face they hadn't expected - though, should have considering the situation - Major Kaidan Alenko.

He gives them a sideways glance and quickly looks back to the asari officer speaking to him, but Garrus can easily see that his ejection from the Normandy still bothers the man. _Good. If only he could actually feel regret for insubordination instead of just sorrow at being rejected._ His mate's eyes widen a fraction of a moment, but her surprise is soon gone as Alenko takes one more look over and clears his throat.

"Hello, Shepard. Garrus," he adds with a slight nod in his direction. "I guess we can cut through a lot of the pleasantries considering we all know each other pretty well. Officers." He looks to the C-Sec team. "These are the Spectres that insist on getting the Alliance to let you through to the Citadel." He shakes his head. "I think it's a bad idea given what humanity is having to deal with-"

"By your own choice," Jane interrupts, leaning on the small conference table and forgoing the seats that some of the officers have taken in effort to seem unassuming. "Let's cut the bullshit, _Major Alenko._ "

"Commander-"

"I'm not a fucking commander-"

"But you are," Kaidan cuts in, frowning as he crosses his arms. "You haven't been officially discharged. It just happens that the Council has a higher command than the Alliance because you're a Spectre, but you're still Alliance. And you're still human."

"Don't make this personal, Alenko," Garrus says, crossing his own arms with a growl. "Just tell give us the Alliance's clearance."

"Or we go in without playing nice," Jane adds with a scowl. "We are doing this on principal, but the Alliance can't do shit to tell us no. Let us through with your blessings or we'll use our fucking Spectre authority."

Kaidan sighs and shakes his head, dropping his arms to rub at his temple. "The Alliance can't accept any responsibility or offer assistance to you or any teams that go into the Citadel. We approved of the quarantine and, after the first team stopped reporting in, the Alliance felt it was justified. If you go in, you cannot put Earth at risk of whatever you find there. We have our own problems."

Garrus huffs in exasperation. "Again, at your own faults." Looking to the C-Sec group. "Collect whatever things you need. Kolyat is a friend and he'll take you to the Normandy. We'll be joining you." The officers are surprised and he's sure he sees relief in some of their eyes. He wonders just what kind of horrors the Alliance has promised they'd find on the Citadel in order to try and convince them to give up on their efforts. "Dismissed." Some of the officers salute as they leave the room, leaving Kaidan, his two guards who he then asks to step out, and the two Spectres.

"Shepard, Garrus." He frowns and drops his hand from his forehead. "Look, I don't think you should be going up there."

"Your opinions stopped mattering when you denied an order and put my men in danger," Garrus' mate says, standing up with her hands resting on the table's smooth surface. "This isn't up for discussion, _Major_. The Alliance has given clearance and you've chosen your path. I don't owe a man explanation when he won't even put aside his own goals and stay loyal to me and my the crews I consider family." Pushing away from the table, she turns to Garrus. "Let's go. The sooner we get off this shithole, the better."


	67. Chapter 67

Garrus

His head aches the moment awareness pushes its way through to reclaim his senses. Consciousness does not bring understanding, however, as any explanation for what has brought him here, to a dark and abandoned hospital ward. Garrus can't be sure of what he had been doing or where he was before his mind finally came into focus on this place. Memory is clouded, foggy, and he isn't sure how to traverse the emptiness that seems to lie on every horizon within his thoughts, shrouding the answers he seeks.

A low beeping calls to him, cast off in the distance of the long hall, and he moves towards the source. Perhaps something here in this gray place of supposed healing and recovery will help him reclaim his own thoughts.

Even with his memory failing him, his instincts tell him of an unseen wrongness hiding within these dusty walls. Perhaps it crawls beneath the swirling fog around his feet, or perhaps its voice is the rhythmic chirping that calls to him, urging him forever forward.

 _I know this place_. Like a whispering in his mind, Garrus listens as the voice within his head - one that sounds unmistakably like his own - paints a picture of a memory he should know. Reaching out to the vid screen showing nothing but distorted orders for patient care he can't seem to comprehend, he realizes this place's familiarity, but not how he's made it here. Where one voice claims he belongs here, another urges him to _remember_ something it assures him is the truth.

At least he knows the source of his migraine, he figures as he continues towards the only light of information in this desolate place. How, he wonders, can a hospital be so empty? Now that he can place the sound of the constant beeping, he is even more confused that a patient would be left on machines without a soul to tend to them. What is this place?

" _Garrus…_ " A whisper, so soft and weak, stops him footsteps from a room and, even with his better eyesight, he can see nothing within but a silhouette of a patient's bed. Within the shadow, there is just a slight distortion of the darkness to alert him to someone within the bed, but he doesn't need to see them to instantly recognize her when she speaks. " _My handsome boy._ "

Garrus' veins chill and a slight keen falls from his throat. Her subharmonics are flat and her shadowy hand quivers as she reaches from the darkness in plea. As much as the voice within his mind coaxes to go to her, the other's muted screams demand he turn around, leave as fast as he can. How could he ever leave his mother? Turn his back on the woman who's held his heart since birth?

" _Please,_ " she whispers, her voice weak with pain and, it seems, years of absence. " _Come to me._ "

 _Do not go to her._ _ **Remember**_. Yet, he can't. He can't pull memories from his clouded mind as this voice commands. No matter how he tries, he can remember no better than he can forget there is more to what has brought him here and why.

It's that indecision and confusion that holds him back, talons digging into the door frame to hold him in place. Whether from falling into the room or to keep from running back down the hall, he can't seem to be able to either decide or make sense out of from the shouts inside his thoughts.

"M… Mom?" he whispers, throat dry and voice cracking. "I… I came to see how you were doing."

Her chuckles send pangs through his spine, but he can't understand why a sound meant to bring amusement causes his muscles to tense and nerves ignite. " _I've been better. Come, sit with me before the nurses come back to make me take my medicine._ "

As much as he wants to tell her that there _are_ no nurses - that there isn't _anyone_ here but them - all that comes from his mouth is a chuckle of his own. The sound grates against his ear drums and it feels like someone else has control of his traitorous body. Even worse, the feeling of something being wrong doesn't dissipate, but, instead, becomes stronger. No matter how hard he grasps the door frame - both hands digging into the metal of the door's frame - it feels as if a rope has wrapped itself around his neck, choking him as he struggles against its pull into the room.

His vocals whine in terror of what he can't seem to understand, of the crippling fear of _wrongness_ flowing through his veins like adrenaline, and he closes his eyes as his arms tremble from the effort. Feet moving on their own, one crosses the threshold and an instant, freezing chill engulfs him.

"I… can't," he seems to demand more than say of himself, but even the words are a struggle to get out as if swallowing stones. "Please…"

" _Garrus…_ "

He keens at the pain in her voice and demands answers from the inner voice pleading not to give in why he can't be with his mother. _How can I ever be apart from her_ , he screams internally. _How can you expect me to turn my back on my dying mother?!_

Gasping at his thoughts - at the memories of his mother's condition and how he, for some reason, wasn't there for her - Garrus' knees give in and he collapses just on the threshold of the room. He swears he can feel the smugness of the voice at his understanding, but can't decide which of them it is, the one trying to make him remember or the one trying to cause him pain by denying his attempts to see her. Here his mother is, at a moment of lucidity, and he can't force his traitorous mind into silence. If it would just forget trying to make him see everything else around him and questioning the situation, he could be spending every passing moment of the time he has left with his mother.

" _Garrus…_ " she calls once more and he cups his face in his hands, digging talons into his plates in effort to silence the voices, helpful and not.

Taking a deep breath when they seem cowed for now, Garrus gets to his feet and looks up to his mother. The fog has swept itself up into the room and wraps itself around his legs, but the chill through his clothes is forgotten as he smiles at his mother's silhouette. His hands don't grip the door as he tries, once more, to enter. With only a moment of steeling his nerves against the rage he's bound to hear from those inner voices, he moves forward.

He gets one foot into the room before something strong grabs his arm and immobilizes him. He growls, trying to jerk it away, and spins to demand whoever it is find somewhere to be, fast, before he decides to make them pay for coming between him and his ill mother. What he faces, however, pours cold ice over his anger and stills him into stunned silence.

_A geth? Here? How did it get on Sur'Kesh?_

_You know who that is._ _ **Remember**_.

"I… I can't," he says weakly, eyes scouring the geth's faceless features, taking in its rapid flicking of facial plates.

"Vakarian-Spectre," the massive Prime says, its optical lights spinning slowly. "We have deduced that you are possibly experiencing a hallucination as result from unknown interference."

"What?" Garrus shakes his head and looks back to the room, to the figure that is so _real_. "You're insane. You shouldn't be here…" He can't remember the name, though he thinks he knows it somewhere in his memories, and ignores the question running around in his brain of why he is even so comfortable with a geth in the first place. "Now leave me alone. I want to be with my mother."

The geth shakes its head and grabs Garrus' shoulder, holding firm in a vice grip. "We cannot allow harm to come to a fellow Normandy crew member due to unforeseen environmental factors aboard the Citadel."

"What? Citadel?" His attention is brought back and he shakes his head at the ridiculousness of the geth's statement. "My mother is being treated on Sur'Kesh, not the Citadel. And I don't serve on the Normandy."

Its head shakes once before looking up to the room and Garrus growls in threat to stay far away from even _thinking_ about touching his mother. "We understand," it says before looking back to down. "Your parental unit is deceased, Vakaria-Spectre. You are not on Sur'Kesh, you are suffering a hallucination due to unknown factors and possible injury from the crash landing of the Normandy's shuttles."

"Dead?" A keen breaks through and he looks back to his mother, eyes pleading her to speak. "Mom?"

" _Garrus…_ "

_She isn't real. Please, please, see this._

"I… I don't…" He looks up to the Prime. "Crash? … Hallucination?"

It nods once and releases his arm. "We do not perceive the outcome of entering the hallucination to be optimal." Looking down the hall, he points. "We must seek out the remainder of the crew. We believe they're experiencing hallucinations of their own."

Uneasiness lays heavily on his shoulders as he clasps his hands over his temples, pain radiating through his head the more he tries to comprehend. "Who… else is there?"

"Your life mate is no longer at the shuttle's site."

He groans loud as a wave of agony hits him, crashing against his skull as a face flashes in his mind. Even through the pain, however, he immediately knows this is wrong, that he shouldn't be here, shouldn't be thinking of stepping through that door to join a visage of a falsehood of his mother.

The mirage calls out once more, weak and fading, and Garrus opens his eyes and looks to the room once more. No longer does a mist cover the ground he now sees littered with rubble and debris from the life this room once had. Lifting to scan the rest of what he first thought was a hospital, he finds a familiar design that also starts to help memories surface.

Huerta. He's found himself at Huerta Memorial Hospital. He isn't sure what floor or wing, but it doesn't seem to matter as Legacy - he remembers that now - seems to know the way as he motions to follow. As he walks, it seems that the fog hiding his own identity from him recedes, revealing his armor, weapons, and the ever presence numbness from his scarring won during the war.

Only now, he has a new set of aches from the crash. Nothing feels broken, however, so he doesn't worry himself over it.

"Where's Jane? How did you find me first? _Why_ did you find me first?"

"We were experiencing our own interference from the crash. Once our systems were restored, we began tracking. You were the first we approached," Legacy explains as he leads the way towards a gaping hole within the hall's wall and Garrus stops at the sight.

Beyond is nothing but destroyed storefronts, desolate Presidium paths and parks, and darkness where the artificial sky used to rise above all with an eternally bright and sunny day. He can now realize how much light the station truly gave off on its own now facing the thick darkness now only lit with emergency illuminators. "How does the station still have life support?"

"The Citadel has been designed to prioritize emergency life support over all other functions. Each Ward has seals throughout to preserve atmosphere even when the station's kinetic barriers are broken."

"Will you be able to tell us if we are getting close an area losing it's atmo?" Garrus starts to slowly climb down the rubble left behind from the blown out wall, leaning back to shift his center of gravity. One wrong slip and he'll be left with nothing to do but roll down the massive pile and hope he doesn't break something, so he'd rather scuff up his armor than break one of his remaining limbs. Still, he moves with the urgency his now clear mind is pulsing through his veins to find his bondmate, to ensure she's safe from her own mind.

"Affirmative. We are currently monitoring atmospheric conditions." Waiting until Garrus gets to the bottom, Legacy then covers the drop at a much faster speed without the worry of injury. "Scanning," he says as he reaches the bottom, facial flaps lifting as his optical eyes spin. "We have located the signature of another organic."

Rubbing his temple, Garrus starts to remember what had happened to the shuttles as they were entering the Citadel and closing in on the last known location of the first Citadel exploration team. Not knowing what would await them, they split into two, Kolyat and the C-Sec team in one shuttle and Garrus, his wife, and their squad. Their plan was to land, gain answers, and return to their shuttles with whatever evidence of the first team they found. Because of that, all Cortez was to remain on the Normandy and Legacy piloted while one of the officers with Kolyat piloted the second shuttle.

It was all going smoothly until something launched itself at the C-Sec shuttle, which then overcorrected into their own and resulted in bringing them all down. The most Legacy could do what direct their fall closer towards their destination and land it on flat enough ground they didn't all break apart against the rubble. Everything after that is black, but Garrus knows he must have gotten up and started walking, eventually coming to in the hospital with a hallucination controlling his mind and body.

What's more frightening that all of that is the fact that his wife is somewhere out there suffering from the same and they have no idea what's causing it or how to stop it. Even if Legacy managed to talk him out of it, how does Garrus know that he can do the same for the others?

"Vakarian-Spectre." He stops and looks at the Prime, following Legacy's pointed finger towards a pair of burned bodies.

Approaching, he pauses to grow accustomed to the too telling scent of charred flesh. With a deep exhale, he crouches beside the nearly unrecognizable bodies and takes more relief in the fact that he automatically knows it isn't his wife or one of his own crew than he knows he should. It's not that he has anything against the C-Sec group, or even the first exploration team, it's just that he's learned not to give a damn about those that have no connection or meaning to him. Fighting is just easier when you have a set face - or faces - in mind to try and protect than the faceless masses.

"They're gone," he says, opening his Tool to check the images of the missing exploration team. One of the bodies belongs to one of the second team, the male turian, and the other is a female from the first group. He can't tell if they were dead at the time of the burning, but the scent of excellerate is strong. Rumbling, he stands up from the twisted and charred remains and looks to Legacy. "Lead me to the next signature. These two are gone."

"We will log their identities into our logs for future reference." He nods and gives their bodies a last glance before saying, "And mark their deaths as unknown, not this." Legacy stops on his way up a pile of rubble that was once a statue of dancing asari children and turns in question. "The least we can do is not let their families know they could have burned to death. It's… not a very pleasant death."

"Understood. Adjustments to the records have been made. Unable to contact Normandy to transfer information."

"What?" Garrus comes to a stunned halt, eyes wide. "You mean we don't even have communications with the rest of the team?" Even if they couldn't break through to anyone with a simple comm, the fact that a stable channel was still active would have helped them stay connected with the Normandy and ensured they could find a way off this damn ghost station. " _Or_ the Normandy?"

"Negative."

"Dammit," he curses softly as he jumps over the last dancing asari statue, a smile belying the horrors all around them and in the dark recesses of what remains of the Citadel. Landing hard, he catches himself before he breaks through the pile of debris underfoot and gets himself into bigger trouble. He knows he's rushing stupidly forward, but Jane is out there somewhere struggling against the very unnerving force that almost drew him into madness with his mother's memory and voice. "How much further is the next-"

A loud scream, dual in tones and piercing, interrupts him and Garrus starts to run. Climbing up over a barricade made from stacked up benches in a last ditch effort by the citizens of the station, he drops down onto ground stained with a rainbow of differently dried bloods. It's chilling to consider where the bodies this multitude of darkened colors belonged to may have gone - been taken - but there are bodies Garrus is more concerned with. Bodies just as out of place as his mother's.

Circling around a single, cowering figure, are the members of the murdered Archangel squad. The figure within their grasps is none other than the second survivor of Omega and Archangel's failed reign, Lantar Sidonis.

Sidonis' shrill shouts of incomprehensible apologies and excuses echo through the empty Citadel, his cries and keens of pain piercing as the ghosts reach for him, clawing and taunting. For every plea for forgiveness, there are three insults, demands of retribution and justice. They scream at him of how he abandoned them, betrayed them, and doomed them to death for his own reasons.

Their ghosts wear their dying injuries, each grabbing at Sidonis and commanding him to look at the result of his cowardice. Amongst the numerous battle wounds from bullets, knives, and explosive munitions, each holds their own, individual means of death like permanent reminders of the final blows. Grundal Krul glares with his four, empty eye sockets as the drell siblings Erash and Vortash's throats hang open from frill to violet frill. A half charred form Garrus barely recognizes as the blonde Tracie Monteague reaches around the taller Mieren - her mandibles ripped off upper plates carved off her blood caked skull - and tries to grab at Lantar once he falls to his knees from Ripper's powerful, three toed stomp. The krogan laughs, his arm missing and eye oozing a burnt amber over the shorter, stripped and bloodied Melanis as he jerks his head towards the young asari. The thin Sensat stomps onto Sidonis' spur and it causes his split horns to wobbly, the left hanging precariously to the side of his exposed skull. Looking to him over the much shorter - now that his head is held at an awkward angle - 'Weaver', Abraham Butler calls over with a wave in Garrus' direction.

"Archangel!" the man that can only be identified by process of elimination and not the pulpy mess that was a face shouts. "Come help us!"

The sounds of pain coming from Lantar are ear shattering and Garrus wonders just what his own mind is doing to him. Coming to the group, he pushes aside the massive krogan and ignores the rest as they grab and claw at the younger man. "Sidonis. You're imagining this," he says as he crouches down, watching Lantar shake his head and dry heave.

His plates are swollen in places, bleeding in others where the Archangel team have scratched at his unarmored plates and hide. With his eyes held shut and hands cradling his face, he can't hear a damn thing, let alone whatever Garrus is saying. "Lantar!"

"I'm so sorry," the young turian whimpers, sobbing as best a turian can with hiccupping gasps and screeching keens as blood drips off his shortened mandibles. "Please… Forgive me…"

"Snap out of it, dammit," Garrus growls, grabbing Sidonis' shoulder and trying to shake sense into him as the dead continously taunt and threaten around them. "This isn't real!"

"Vakarian-Spectre. We advice alternative tactics."

He waves Legacy off and looks over Sidonis' face, catching his distant and fearful eyes. What is he to do? Something within him tells him he has to break this cycle or risk losing the man to his inner demons. Can they truly kill him? Doesn't he deserve it? To suffer justice at the hands of those he betrayed?

"No," Garrus whispers, scowling as he looks up to the mirages. "He's faced judgement already." Returning to Lantar, he hums in thought before doing the only thing he figures will get Sidonis out of his nightmares.

Garrus doesn't doubt the legitimacy of the man's words when Jane was a finger's hold away from killing the man. He had said he was given a choice, the Archangel team, or Archangel himself. Who did he chose? Garrus, but why?

' _...I had to save him…'_

That was what he had told Jane so long ago when an answer for his actions was demanded for fear of death and Garrus had denied it for so long. Why, in his right mind, would Sidonis do what his did for some strange infatuation? One that is still so obvious even now?

Balling his hand into a fist, Garrus snarls as he shoves Mierin away from trying to rip off Sidonis' fringe and pushes away the man's hands to replace with his own. "Lantar," he says, Archangel's commanding tone causing the ghosts to take a step back with hisses and growls. "This isn't real. You have to snap out of it."

"They're here to kill me… to make me pay for all I've done…" Sidonis whimpers and closes his blue eyes, darkened by the burst vessels within. "I deserve this… I'm a monster… a coward…"

Rumbling in frustration, Garrus, once again, shoves away the dead as they crowd closer in Sidonis' weakness. "Dammit, you idiot," he snaps before glaring up at the team. "He's paid his dues to you."

" _He killed us…_ " Sidonis flinches. ". _..for you…_ " A whimper falls from his bloody mouth at what Garrus knows is true. " _...failure…_ " Lantar begins to fall inward, breath heavy and ragged. " _...rejection…_ "

With that, with the words Sidonis is cursing himself with in the voices of the dead, Garrus understands a way to pull the man out. It may not be the best, and it certainly isn't going to be the easiest to come back from if it's ever questioned, but it's all he can think of. Perhaps, in the end, it will be for the best and what they finally need to move on.

Dropping his hands to Sidonis' shoulders, Garrus pulls the younger man to his chest and thrums deep and soothingly. His arms shift to wrap around the armored body against his own and, it's awkward and clumsy, but Lantar begins to collapse into his grasp, vocals shifting from defeated terror to a more subdued - though, not by much - desperation. What does give into the feeling that he's pulling Sidonis out is the enraged roars of the Archangel team as they reach desperately to pull him back into their agony.

"It's okay," Garrus whispers against Lantar, rumbling deeply and in a rhythm he would his children. "They aren't real." _They can't hurt you because nothing exists beyond this life,_ but he keeps his own believes of nothingness at the end to himself. Instead he tells Sidonis, "You have paid your debts to them. You… are forgiven."

He always imagined saying such a thing to the man would hurt or leave a bad taste in his throat, but he finds he actually is willing to let go. All this time, he's been telling himself justice was served, but never actually treated Sidonis any different. Sure, he can't be expected to completely trust from the beginning of having the man aboard, but Lantar has begun to prove himself in the care of his children and rest of the crew. He's even, as Garrus has noticed, started to learn from Elihu to better tend to injuries on the field without the doctor needing to be present and in danger.

"I can't…" Sidonis' voice is weak, sleepy in a very disturbing way, and dread sinks into Garrus' veins. He knows why the man's vocals are silent and body limp.

Garrus isn't making it through. Sidonis is giving in to the ghosts of the Archangel team and their torment.

His thoughts of the man aside, Garrus can't just stand by and let him die, can't sit with Sidonis in his arms and hold him as his life drains away. "Don't give in," he says and cups Lantar's face. "Do you hear me? Jane would kill you _and_ me if she found out you gave up." He huffs a weak laugh, still losing the man, and frowns. "You can't hear me, can you?"

Sidonis' short mandibles flare slightly as his eyes glaze over. "I'm sorry, sir…" he says into the distance. "I… I…"

Closing his eyes against the effort this will take, Garrus leans forward and presses his forehead to Sidonis' pressing all the emotion he can muster. In truth, he needs Sidonis to live because, in his own way, he has become one of them in more ways than he ever was a member of the Archangel squad. He belongs to the Normandy, to Jane's family and, by extension, to Garrus'.

Adding more pressure to the bleeding forehead before his, Garrus starts to see the distance within Sidonis' blue eyes fade and the fog lift from where it's settled around their knees. The ghosts' wails turn into murmurs and their presence lessens from a weight of pressure against his back to a slight sensation of being watched. When he rumbles deeply, however, and feels the slight press back, does he feel the entirety of Sidonis' mental anguish dissipate.

Lantar doesn't speak as he shifts to hug Garrus tightly, trembling as he clings to the heavy black and red armor. His voice is raw and vocals grate against the ears as he takes gravely breaths. "Thank you. Thank you for saving me," he says weakly, their armors clanking from his constant shivering and bloody claw marks from his own talons smearing over their smooth surfaces. "I'm sorry, Garrus."

"I meant it when I said you've paid your dues." Sidonis clears his throat and nods, relaxing his death grip on Garrus' armor. Once released, Garrus stands and offers a hand up to the man. "Come on. We still have to find the others."

Trilling in sudden realization, Sidonis curses under his breath and jerks a wide-eyed stare to him. "Shepard! I saw her before… before _they_ cornered me!" Without needed Garrus to make any commands, Sidonis bolts opposite their position and further down the lake side of the Presidium. "Come on! We may still be able to catch her!"


	68. Chapter 68

Jane

She only remembers she had been chasing Kolyat, shouting something to get his attention, but not how she got to be standing here at the foggy bank of the Presidium's lake. Staring at her veiled reflection in the water sent into ripples from the nearby fountain -its complete lack of sound failing to grasp her attention - Jane frowns in confusion at a sight she can't seem to understand.

Her own face frowns back up to her, she knows that, but there is something in the smoothness of her skin and appearance of her civilian jeans and jacket that sends a chill through her fingers and down to her toes. She shouldn't be here, doesn't belong, but she can't say why. Looking back to her sketchpad on one of the park benches peeking through the blanket of gray mist, her thoughts race to grasp at reason, but nothing comes so she moves to the book to see if her own drawings might shed light.

When she picks up the pad, however, she can't make sense of the smudges and lines, as if drawn by someone else. Who could have had contact with her things without her knowing? Or are these her own work, but she can't remember how to make sense of them? Flipping pages only brings more confusing images of nothing she can recognize, so she sets the notebook back onto the bench to be once more engulfed by wisps of the fog.

"Hello?" she calls out, her voice seeming to hit a wall instead of bounce around the unnervingly empty Presidium. Nothing responds to her call, not even a rustling of an artificial breeze through the trees answers, and the tiny hairs on her skin rise in distress. Despite her body's urgings to be on the ready, Jane shakes off her uneasiness and sighs to watch her breath drift upward.

As she closes her eyes, sure that there's some logical explanation for the lack of people here and she just doesn't know it, she hears a sound, but it's so quick she can't place it before it's gone. Straining her ears and hoping for a second chance, it happens again, a soft, wet pop. _The lake_.

She spins to see the only other source of sound in this place and, at first, see nothing. Upon moving closer, another pair of bubbles rise to the surface to emit that slick plop as they burst. Curious, Jane leans closer, hovering over the black water, and tries to see something - _anything_ \- through the blanket of mist and dense blackness. Still, she can see nothing, and gets onto her hands to reach into the water without paying mind to a inner voice screaming against it.

Just as her fingertips break the steady surface of the silent lake, it bursts to life. Before she can cry out or jerk away, a slick, blackened hand wraps around her wrist. The grip is like a vice and, no matter the force she exerts into pulling back, it doesn't falter is pausing before ripping her from the shore.

Unable to scream as she is pulled under and into the suffocating darkness of the lake, Jane struggles to what she can only hope is surface because it's opposite from the forces - _the hands_ \- yanking her downward. She kicks and screams, the sound ringing through the water and sending an eruption of bubble from her lips, but the weight upon her only grows, claws hooking into her. Grabbing at anything that may be holding her, she connects with a three fingered hand and rips it from her body. Its absence gives her enough movement to break the surface and she gasps for air, throwing her arms out of the sludge-like water as she screams in utter terror.

 _Somebody help me… Anyone! Please!_ Why can no one hear her struggles? Why is the usually packed Presidium so deathly still and silent?

"... _Shepard-Commander…"_ A hand winds fingers into her hair and pulls her head back. "... _Siha…"_ She feels a strong grip take her ankle and pull her back under. "... _Had to be me…"_ Jane clenches her eyes shut against the burn of desperate tears as she reaches her hands for the shore. " _...embrace of the Goddess…"_ Only, when she feels the solidness of the bank at her fingertips, she is ripped away and further into the water. " _...failed us… killed us…"_ Over and over, she hears the damning voices of the dead crystal clear in her ears as hands from every person she's ever failed grab hold to drag her to her deserved hell.

 _You have to fight. You deserve more._ _ **Remember**_.

She wants to scream at the voice, demand answers on just how the hell it expects her to fight this and see its distorted reason. How can she fight the truth of being the one alive who should have died to save the others? Why would she want to? What is there left but regret?

 _ **Remember**_.

She feels talons and claws dig into her skin through her flimsy clothes and screams again, only managing to suck more air into her lungs. That fucking voice and its demands, it wants her to fight and, dammit, so does her traitorous body. It wants to breathe, it wants to struggle with the inevitable and she only has so much energy left in her to give it one more, futile attempt.

Jane balls her hands into fists and her chest clenches in an unheard sob as she listens to one more command to _**remember**_ before pushing all she has into trying to surface. Pushing away hands and arms from wrapping themselves from her, she swims the only direction she thinks could be the edge of the abyss. With each swing of her arms, another sharp sting of the dead's grip sinks into her flesh and she falters before the voice wails to move. Fighting through the pain is all she can do to combat the demands rattling within her head, and the only thing she's promised should she fail to escape.

When she breaks through the surface for a second time, she only knows from the extra chill of the air against her already soaked and shivering skin. She can't see from the hands covering every inch of her body, pushing to cover her mouth and steal her breath, but she cries out anyways. If this will be her last ditch effort, she will do it kicking and screaming at her demons. That damn voice _demands_ it, for what good the exhaustion will do.

Perhaps, she hopes, fighting will only tire her enough that she won't suffer. It's not what she deserves, but she's too big a coward to deal with a slow death.

Whispers fill her ears again, the lost she loved and cared for wanting justice for their deaths and their 'Great Commander' to join them in the darkness. Jane sobs, letting the fear and desperation fuel her only chance to reach the shore even though she may very well be struggling further from it. _Please… Just… I don't want to die…_

_I deserve to die. I failed so many of the people I called friends… I failed…_

There is no reason that she sees to fight the promising abyss, the whispers of belonging in her ears from the dead prodding and gripping her body. Closing her eyes, Jane releases a long sigh and leans her head back into the palm of a massive hand. Submission drags her arms down and into the water as she feels a sense of victory flow through her ghosts as they swarm around her, embracing her in death.

"Jane!" A voice. One that doesn't belong with the dead, but one she can hear all the same. It's one that pulls open her eyes and fills her lungs with air just as her head is pulled under once more. "Jane!" The pain in that voice make the dead hiss and growl as they jerk harder against her body.

_Don't listen to the liar, the deceiver… He will try to take you away from your just end…_

_No. Listen to him. He is safety._ _ **Remember**_.

Stricken by the distorted shout of her name once more in a voice so familiar and full of terror where she knows it was once warm and soothing, Jane reaches through the grasps of the dead and towards the surface. Her lungs burn from the lack of oxygen and the wounds from the claws holding her burn from the oily waters, but she manages to kick at the strong hands that bind her and swim from the snarls of the dead's anger.

She screams as she's breaking through the water, jerking an arm from the grasp of five fingers and throwing it towards the voice. _Save me. Please…_ Desperation fills her as she grasps for the air, blinded by the thick fog as the dark waters slough from her eyes and she fears the calls of her name were all in taunt, a way to force her to endure longer in this hell. Sobs fall from her lips as her arm is grabbed once more and she's yanked deeper despite her struggle to keep her head above water.

 _Please… I… I don't want to die_. She reaches her pleas out to the voice that was so close to home to save her as she dips down more with each pull until her head falls under once more. Unable to break the grasp on her hair and around her neck, she throws her hand up through the water for one last attempt to catch the caller's attentions through the mist.

Is it then that a massive, three fingered hand wraps itself completely around her forearm and pulls her _away_ from the hooks of her lost crew and friends. The dead scream in rage as her head breaks the surface, but she's too tired to continue to fight. Let whatever or whoever has her in their grasp now have her, she is done. Falling lax against the body that now holds her to their side, she closes her eyes and lets her head bounce against their armored shoulder as the fog whips around them, shrouding her new captor.

"Jane," the voice says, so near now, and their breath pants through the splashes and licks of water crashing against them. Jane no longer fights the water as it tries to enter through her lips, but the arms holding her _do_ care as one tilts her head higher on their shoulder to lift her chin. "Dammit, Jane. Don't do this to me."

A weak smile spreads over her lips as she shifts to lean her head against the hard ring of armor around her carrier's shoulders, but it's stolen from her when those familiar cold hands wrap themselves around her ankles. She gasps and tries to pull away, fighting her captor as result as well, and they growl, gripping her tighter as the dead begin to grasp at the interloper. _No… they aren't part of this… the dead can't have them…_

"You have… to get away…" she whispers to her - she now realizes - attempted savior. "They'll kill you too."

"They aren't killing anyone," he - _they're a he… and which such a beautiful voice -_ says with a grunt and shoves a hand from around her shoulder as he fights against the high water and towards what she assumes is the shore. "Fight them. They can't hurt you unless… you give in."

"I can't fight them." She frowns in guilt at her admittance, never once feeling so drained or so useless as she is now at that hands of her failures. "I failed them."

"They died so many more could live, so _you_ could live." He stumbles and takes them both under the surface before quickly coming back up with curses in another language. She can't bear to see another fall to her mistakes, but what is she to do to make this one leave her side? Why the hell is he being such a fucking idiot to die her with her? "Dammit, Jane. They aren't the ones who want you to join them, _you_ are!" Frowning, she uses all her strength to look to him and catches sight of someone her mind screams is important, is more to her than her own life she is so carelessly throwing away, but it makes no sense.

She doesn't know where, in a life she can't seem to remember, this scarred turian belonged and it physically hurts because she knows she _should_ , and _wants_ to even if it causes even more pain.

"Wh… who-"

"Jane," he says with a trilling softness that makes sadness flow through her and he stops in the water, turning her in his arms to hold against the armor of his chest. "I love you." His hand yanks off the hooks in her hair and cups her head to his neck where she can feel a tender vibration. "Don't let them take you from me. You've already given so much." She hears a purring as he tilts her head up and presses his smooth mouth plates to her lips. "Now it's time to live."

Talons grab at his mandible and pulls, but despite the obvious pain he must feel, he doesn't budge from her lips. Instead, he pushes harder while relaxing to open his mouth and lap gently at her lips with a rough, slender tongue. He's made it clear to her that he won't leave her alone to this watery grave and, should she chose, he will drown right beside her. All she can do in response is sob as she presses back, flicking his tongue with her own as she adds her own hands to the many gripping onto him.

Her demons' wails and voices dim, their grasps loosening, and Jane closes her eyes at the sting of their jagged claws pulling from her flesh to let the sting of the filthy water in. Even as they release her, she feels heavier in the water as the weight of her armor begins to settle back upon her shoulders and cause Garrus to break their kiss in effort to keep both of their heavily weighted bodies from sinking.

Jane's eyes widen in realization. Garrus, her _turian_ husband, is trying to keep the two of them afloat in water almost completely engulfing his own face. He must have rushed into the lake to save her from a nightmare that feels so real and whose validity she's afraid to seek in the cuts and wounds that seem to lie beneath her armor.

"Fu-" she tries to say, bobbing in the water enough to get the rancid fluid that was once water into her mouth and spitting it out. Instead of speaking, she pushes from her husband and grabs the front of his cowl as she begins to swim to shore. The bottom of this part of the lake has to be close enough to his feet for him to kick off for air because there's no way he'd be even half as buoyant as a turian could _hope_ to be with his full set of heavy Terminus armor, but she can't be sure because her own height leaves too much emptiness beneath her to be certain of letting him go.

She'll carry him on her back if she has to. Anything to keep herself from losing him.

She can feel it in her grip on his cowl guard when he hits solid ground beneath his feet as it's less a struggle to pull him behind her and more a gentle urging forward. Only when he covers her hand in assurance does she relax her grip and turn to look back to him, waving her opposite arm through the water in order to maintain afloat herself. "You came for me."

Her mate smiles and nods, walking slowly through the resistance of the murky lake water. "Always. Although," he adds with a chuckle. "Let's keep the deep sea diving off the agenda from now on."

Jane knows that look of slight unease in his eyes and hates herself even more for letting her own nightmares gets the best of herself. She made him put himself in danger for her, for her stupid guilt over that which she can't change. In lamenting the loss of those already gone, she almost lost her one true love and bondmate in life and the nothingness beyond.

Squeezing his hand in apology, she turns to see Legacy storming through the water towards them. "Shepard-Spectre. You are recovered." He offers a hand to help her move faster through the water and looks to her husband. "Vakarian-Spectre, we were able to disable the defense systems tracking your entry into the Presidium lake. We now know who altered the Friend or Foe perimeter."

"Defense systems?" Jane asks in confusion as Legacy helps her, then Garrus, out of the water and onto the bank where Sidonis immediately begins to scan them with his Omni-Tool.

Garrus nods as he coughs, spitting up some of the foul water that's far from the pristine waters they once knew. "There was… a defense turret tracking." He grunts and practically pukes some of the murky gray liquid from his throat.

"We have identified the source of the alteration." Turning, Legacy points further down the Presidium and towards a large, apartment complex with its lobby completely blown out. "Reading indicate Urdnot Rym is beyond that damaged housing complex."

Taking deep breaths, Jane feels her mate take her hand and she squeezes it to ground herself. Her legs are shaky when she climbs up onto them, but the help of Garrus' arm around her shoulders lets her right herself, feel the blood flow through her limbs and move forward. The going is slow, all of them - well, the organics - look like shit, she and Garrus soaked to the bone and probably covered in scratches that shouldn't exist, and Sidonis looks like he tries to claw his own plates off with his bare talons. Still, they press forward and she files away any questions of what the fuck is going on for after they get the hell off this station.

As they travel further from the lake side and deeper into the housing units of what was once the fancier neighborhoods of the Citadel, they start to see a sight that seems as out of place in this ghost town of a station as the living, the dead. Only, this time, they truly _are_ dead.

Bodies of krogan - too many to count and not all in armor - lie piled up along the walls of the boardwalk at the foot of two tall towers. The acrid scent of burning flesh and plates fills the air as flames engulf bodies the further they walk down the path. Jane's throat stings at the taste and there's a morbid thought in her mind of how, no matter the species, they all smell the same when fed to a fire. As Garrus once mentioned, the familiarity to the sight and smell is never a good sign, but nothing of the horrors they've faced ever is.

A horror like the sight of smaller, definite children, bodies added to the pyres of the dead. Children still in the clothes of innocence before being given a suit of armor, gun, and target to despise enough to kill. Even the strong, violent race of the krogan know the preciousness of the young, and to see the corpses of them beside the armored adults can only mean an enemy too great for the greatest of survival species.

"What's happened to them?" Sidonis asks with a stiff jerk of his mandibles in discomfort, looking ready for that fight or flight response to have any excuse to kick in. "They look like they've been." He pauses to look over a body not yet claimed by the flames. "They haven't been shot by Reapers."

"This has to be Rym's doing," Garrus explains. "This must be her hallucination. To see her people killed."

"Not killed!" Their heads snap up to a pile towering over the rest, a scowling, soot covered Rym standing atop her fallen people. "Murdered!" In an instant, her expression falls as her body collapses to her knees and a wailing sob leaves her body shaking. "They're all dead…"

"Rym," Jane says softly, holding her hands to the rest. If this is some kind of hallucination that they can all somehow see as Garrus said, then she's going to pull the species card and be careful not to show the freaking krogan a pair of turians. As for Legacy. Well, there's no telling what he'd be able to do with a sobbing krogan. "Hey. We'll fix this. I promise. We'll make whoever did this pay."

The fires reflect off of her emerald crest as Rym shakes her head. "I can't fix this… I _caused_ this…" Jane's eyes widen in surprise and she stops in her steps, unsure how to soothe the woman now. "I tried to help my people," she says as she finally looks up, broad streaks of tears cut through the ash on her cheeks. "I brought them technology… and they used it to kill each other."

"You didn't do this." Jane moves towards the bottom of the mountain of bodies and looks up to the crying krogan, frowning in pain for the broken woman whose only wish is to better her people, and whose only fear is to damn them. "You didn't make them weapons, you made their lives better-"

"How is this better?!"

She doesn't flinch at the roar thrown down to her and doesn't look away, simply raising her hand soothingly. "You can't know how people will react to your good intentions. You aren't alone in wanting to better your people. You have to remember that." Stepping onto a hump, Jane starts to climb up. "Remember Urdnot Wrex? Urdnot Bakara? They're waiting back home for you, and would love to hear the advances you've been making." Seeing confusion in the woman's green eyes, Jane waves an arm back. "Do you remember going to Rannoch? Meeting the quarians and geth?" _Hurry up, Legacy…_

"Rannoch? I… I don't remember Rannoch." Confusion turning into anger, Rym growls and tries to push Jane away so she can reach for her weapon thrown an arm's length away. "Go away, stupid human before I make you regret ever interrupting my mourning ceremony."

"Urdnot Rym," Legacy says from the bottom of the pyre. "We wish to help." His facial flaps lift, then flutter shut. "We insist you remember our meeting upon Rannoch." When she doesn't turn from glaring Jane in the eyes, he continues. "Would you like to hear our theory for EDI program's ethical algorithm's repair? We believe we have reached an acceptable exchange of data availability."

"Wh...What?" She looks down to the Prime and her pupils dilate. "A… geth?" Her eyes turn to Jane and, instead of the frightened anger, there is a lost child looking back. One completely torn from her people, but struggling with what she should feel given what she sees and what is real. "I don't…"

"Rym. That's Legacy." Jane smiles. "You and he have been trying to bring our other AI friend back to life. Her name is EDI. You remember her, I know you do." She chuckles and tries to take a relaxed posture despite being knee deep in the dead. "You should considering you're always elbow deep in wiring whenever I visit you in the AI Core."

Legacy nods and looks up to Rym, eye lights spinning. "The geth are pleased to see the creators returned to Rannoch. We look forward to cooperation." His head tilts and flaps flick open. "We wish to see the same for your people."

Rym makes a humming purr in her throat as she reaches for Legacy, three fingered hand caressing over his head down the side of his long neck. "You really are real. You can tell them that we don't have to fight just because we have the technology?"

"Yes," Legacy says, unperturbed by the physical contact. "We will assist Urdnot clan in expressing a need for cooperation and peace among the krogan people if it will prevent violence. The geth wish to aid other species in avoiding the same prejudices that led to the Morning War with the creators."

"But you have to come with us, Rym," Jane adds, looking around at the wobbling of the images of krogan all around. Each next word that Legacy and Rym share over their attempts to save her people from this end seeming to wipe away the mask of the dead that lies over the inorganic rubble of the Citadel. Returning her sights to the woman, Jane smiles hopefully. "Will you come with us?"

The krogan woman finally drops her hand from Legacy's platform and nods, catching Jane's eyes. "Yes. Yes. I will save my people." Standing and shoving the ashy rubble from her shoulders, Rym comes to her and helps her to her feet. "I will come with you, Shepard, so let's get the hell out of this damn place."

"Way ahead of you," she replies as she gives Legacy a nod of thanks as she climbs down to join her mate.


	69. Chapter 69

Garrus

He doesn't know how much more they can push themselves through the Reaper torn Citadel in hunt for teams of people most likely given in and killed by their own personal demons. What's worse is that they have no personal connection with these people in order to save them. For instance, when they meet up with one of the asari officers from the second team, they are unable to coax her from the edge of a boardwalk crossing the width of the Presidium because they have no idea how to overcome the tiny children dancing and singing convincing words to jump.

At least, he thinks, his wife is starting to show more frustration and less regret with each body they find from the first exploration team as they move closer to the initial shuttle's beacon. The struggles they overcame in the lake seems to have opened her eyes to the damage she was doing to herself with her self-induced survivor's guilt and, though it's still unfortunate that the further they go, the more loss they see, Garrus has a small part of his mind that rejoices in her realization.

Maybe, now, she can truly begin to let go. It's already hard enough many nights to comfort her when she wakes wailing from agony of wounds brought through her PTSD - something which he also suffers, though in a different, more silent and insomnia-induced way.

Now, if only they can figure out how to stop these hallucinations and get off this damn space station.

"Look," Rym says, pointing further down the debris covered Presidium markets towards what looks like a shuttle resting in a bed of dead and long decayed flora. "Is that the first team's shuttle?"

"Negative." Legacy looks down to Garrus and Jane. "We read signs of communications activity. We hypothesize a recording left for any who find the shuttle."

Garrus nods and pulls his weapon, just in case. The others follow suit, but Jane lets him lead the way. It's best due to her definite injuries that have left her limping and slower than usual. If Sidonis' own wounds from his experience are telling enough of the situation, then she has wounds deep enough to leave gouges in his armor's paint beneath her armor.

When they are two meters from the shuttle, a hologram activates on their proximity. Though it starts as nothing but distressed static, it soon forms into a woman's image they know well, Miranda Lawson. "Explains why she wasn't on Earth," his mate states as she lowers her weapon to her hip.

"How did she make it through Alliance restrictions?"

"You'd be surprised," Garrus tells Lantar as he lowers his own weapon and approaches the hologram.

Miranda's image takes a moment to double check the recording of her message before speaking. " _This is Miranda Lawson. I've attempted to track the first Citadel exploration team's shuttle landing signal, but I think I was shot down by someone or something. I can't be sure, though. Something… is wrong with this place."_ She looks around over her shoulders before drawing her brows down and laying a hand on her belly, perhaps hurt from her rough landing. The shuttle looks in good enough shape, though, and Garrus hopes that they may even be able to use it and avoid searching for the original team's transport. " _I'm going to try and track the shuttle, then try to find the source of the communications interference. This message is set to transmit out once I do and, if you're hearing this, do_ _ **not**_ _land on the Citadel without preparing for something, possibly hostiles, first."_

She was shot down. Perhaps by some survivor crazed and armed with something found in the rubble of the battle between Citadel occupants and the attacked Reaper forces. It would make sense as to what happened to their own approach when the second team's shuttle lost control and crashed into their own. "Legacy," Garrus orders as the message repeats. "Can you track the signal of the Tool used to record this message?"

"Already on it," Rym explains from where she stands beside the geth, eyes moving from her own Omni-Tool to his. "It's further ahead. We might be able to take the shuttle there."

"There exists a percentage of 87.06 percent success in using the transport vessel to traverse the Citadel without encountering anti-aircraft measures."

Garrus looks to his wife, she and Sidonis helping each other stand on the unleveled rubble. They've all already rationed out their medigel, but he can tell the bruises from the crash and flesh wounds add to the mental exhaustion into a draining fog of disconnect. "What do you think?"

His wife bites her lip in consideration before nodding. "Yeah, let's do it. I don't know how much further we can go before we'll have to start carrying each other." She looks around at the squad. "Are we all in agreement that finding the teams is secondary to getting off this hellhole? We find only those we care about and then we get the fuck off this station."

Garrus helps her into the shuttle as Legacy prepares the launch sequence. With hope, Miranda won't be too out of it that they'll be left with _three_ injured and still on the search for Kolyat, Doctor Michel's status, and a way to get off this station. Prepared for anything to try and take them out of the sky, they strap into the too small and slightly uncomfortable seats and he takes his mate's hand to gently stroke a thumb over her gloved knuckles.

He almost lost her, almost watched her drown at the hands on her own demons, and damn if he wasn't ready to be right there with her. Sure, Legacy could have gone to her and probably pulled her out and onto the shore kicking and screaming, but Garrus just knew that, even without the booby trap left by a hallucinating Rym, Jane would be lost before she ever made it to the shore where he could try and save her. He would rather have faced his fears for just long enough to drown right beside her than see the love of his life leave him.

From his position, Garrus is able to glance out of the cockpit window and see the dense fog that has collected over the Presidium. He knows it shouldn't exist and something in his gizzard makes him sure that it's just another hallucination, but he can't shake the eeriness it creates. Anything could be hiding in that mist, any sort of nightmarish representation of death, but what haunts him more is what he's already seen lurking.

First, he was taunted by the voice of his dead mother to most likely join her in the abyss, then there was Sidonis and his torture at the hands of those he betrayed in his lowest moments. Rym's hell was a chilling moment of what could become of any species, not just the krogan, but Garrus' own mate's ghosts were something he's knows from experience as her struggles. It's easy to see how the chances of the other team's survivals can be so low when knowing they not only face their own nightmares, but most likely alone and without a knowing companion to pull them out.

As the shuttle begins to climb the rise of the Presidium, Garrus' eyes widen in shock and Jane curses loudly at the sight. Towering before them is a massive Reaper corpse that's crashed through the outer shell of the Presidium's structure and into the Presidium Tower where it now rests. It seems like it was moving fast when it went offline and its momentum just keep pushing it forward and into the Citadel. That's not the most shocking realization, however.

It's not just any Reaper, but _Harbinger._

"Holy fuck." He can't help but to agree with the entirety of his wife's statement. This was definitely not something they expected. "Is… Are we suffering _Indoctrination?_ "

Sidonis trills and looks to Garrus with a worried look. "That… We can't be."

"We aren't killing each other or trying to bring it back to life, but now we know what's causing these hallucinations." Humming, he stands and moves to the cockpit. "Legacy, is Harbinger active?"

"Negative." His facial panels shift. "Vakarian-Spectre, we have come to a conclusion on the cause of the interference on organics."

"Let's hear it."

"We read a radiation fallout from the Reaper known as Harbinger. It is inactive, but its inactivation also seems to cause a release of contained energy, resulting in the perceived effects of Indoctrination."

Jane whispers from the back of the shuttle and Garrus glances back to see her lean forward, hands clasped as she closes her eyes. "'Even dead gods can dream.' That's what that Cerberus scientist once said on that derelict Reaper." She turns to him, frowning. "Is this what's happening all over the galaxy?"

"We perceive the possibility of contamination among the other species to be a low percentage of 13.6 percent," Legacy says as he dips the shuttle downward and towards the sight of what looks to be the intact transport from the first exploration team in the distance. "We believe the concentrated energy of the one called Harbinger is more powerful than those we have come into contact with previously. It is also of importance that the Citadel is designed for isolation and impenetrability."

"Nothing gets in, but nothing gets out," Garrus explains to anyone needing it and narrows eyes as he concentrates on the movement down below. "Everyone, put on your helmets. We don't know how thin the air is around the breach. And get ready for action, I see movement."

The clicks and whirrs of locking helmets and activating weapons sound through the shuttle as Garrus follows suit and moves towards the hatch. Throwing it open once the rest are at the ready, he pulls his weapon and sights down the closing distance to catch sight of a pair of the remaining C-Sec officers aiming their weapons towards the perceived incoming foes. "Legacy, see if this shuttle has an external comm. Assure them we're friendlies."

A moment later, Legacy's voice begins to belt from the shuttle as they draw precariously close to the range of the C-Sec weapons. " _Secondary Citadel exploration team, Normandy crew approaching position. Please, lower weapons,"_ he glances back as he spins the shuttle to give the entire crew change to target the remaining asari and human officers out of the open hatch.

The two don't move, but they also don't shoot, which is good. Garrus gives the signal to slowly approach them, but it quickly turns towards what he fears as the officers raise their weapons and begin to shout. It's hard to tell what they're saying exactly, but Garrus knows enough from his own days in C-Sec to understand they're being given an order to drop weapons or face consequences.

On any normal occasion, he'd comply at least enough so that it doesn't _look_ like they're fully capable of still taking the officers down at least so they could close the distance to explain and gauge the situation. However, with how Harbinger's corpse is now affecting everyone, it's just not a smart idea to give any sign of defenselessness over to the assuredly crazed officers.

Before anything can be done about the standoff, Garrus' eyes immediately lock onto movement within the shuttle, but cannot react without a firefight ensuing. That, and he isn't sure how to respond to a wide eyed, bleeding and disheveled Doctor Chloe Michel screaming as she charged the officers from behind and jumps onto the asari's shoulders to start slamming something in her fist down over and over into the woman's unprotected neck.

Violet fountains from the officer's neck as her own cries pierce the air along with the remaining officer's frantic gunfire. Michel takes each and every bullet hitting her as if not feeling as she scrambles from the falling officer and slithers into the darkened shuttle. The human man moves to try and target both the Normandy crew and the crazed doctor's last known location, but it's only resulting in divided his much needed attention.

"We aren't here for you!" Jane shouts as she lowers her weapon while the others cover her. "Focus on her! We have your back!"

He shakes his head, eyes darting between his two enemies as he reaches for a compartment on his belt. Garrus knows enough of munitions to recognize an explosives pouch and growls, readying his weapon to fire the instant he sees for sure it's as he expects.

"You fucking Reaper bastards! You won't take me alive!"

Just as the shining canister of a grenade peeks from between his fingers and the latch of his belt pocket, Michel charges, her cry piercing as she holds what's now visible as a jut of jagged metal. Before Garrus can move to take his shot around the man's head - trying to save the man even when he may very well be too far gone - Chloe has wrapped herself around the man and sinks her flat teeth into the side of his face. He screams in pain and drops the explosive, but a look to is is all Garrus needs to know he needs to protect his team.

"Down! Get down!"

Legacy swings the shuttle and the momentum plus Garrus' orders send the entire crew slamming against the far wall of the cabin. Armors bang and scream at the abuse as there is no time to shield themselves from the fall or open hatch before the explosion goes off.

The shuttle bucks and tosses them before the massive boom hits their ears and Jane and Garrus are thrown across the floor and towards the open hatch. A fall from here is bound to break bones and he snatches her hand in effort to save her, but his gloves talons scrape uselessly against the metal when he tries to save them both. Just as his hand fails to hook onto the rim of the frame, a hand grabs his own and Sidonis grunts at the heavy jerk on his shoulder, surely having it dislocated. It's still not enough as the shuttle sways in effort to regain balance and he, too, begins to lose the battle to hold on.

That is, until all three of them are jerked to a solid stop midway on falling. Garrus looks up and sees Rym gripping one of the support structures with one hand and Lantar's leg in the other. She grimaces as she tries to pull them against the angle of the transport and gravity's pull, but it works and they slowly begin to move.

Belly and chest dragging against the metal flooring, Sidonis uses his hands to grip Garrus' arm at the wrist and forearm. He groans at the pull on his injuries, but his grip is firm as Garrus draws close enough to grab Rym's hand as Lantar grabs his armor in one hand and reaches for Jane with the other. Together, they all manage to pull the entire group, panting and groaning, into the shuttle just as Legacy regains control.

"Legacy," Jane says weakly, closing her eyes as she sits on the floor of the shuttle and Rym steps over her to yank the hatch closed. "Forget them. We're running out of time. We need to find Kolyat and Miranda, then we need a fucking plan to destroy that Reaper."

"Understood."

Jane doesn't get up from the floor as they move towards Miranda's tracked Tool and, instead, sits with her elbows on her knees and head in her hands with eyes closed. Occasionally, she will shake her head with a tight lipped frown, but she never speaks. Following her lead, the rest of them are quiet and stick to themselves as they contemplate just how the hell they are really going to manage destroying a Reaper. Active and shooting at them or not, it's no small task and not having communications to properly target it from the Normandy will make it practically firing blind.

"Legacy," Garrus asks, breaking the silence, and looks up from staring a hole in the shuttle floor. "Can you accurately chart the coordinates and location of Harbinger on the Citadel as viewed from outside the station?"

"Couldn't we just aim for the giant hole?" Jane finally speaks, but doesn't open her eyes or drop her hands from her face. "How many could there be?"

"The Thannix doesn't work that way, unfortunately."

Legacy is silent in the cockpit before finally saying, "We have come to a consensus on a possible solution."

"Let's hear it," Rym says, interest piqued.

"We are currently calculating the distance between the initial shuttle's coordinates and the coordinates of the Citadel's Council Tower. From within the Normandy, we will account for the kilometers of inner tunnels and systems within the Citadel that surround the target. The Thannix Cannon can then be calibrated to the specific coordinates once all factors have been accounted for."

"Looks like you job, then," Jane jokes with a final glance and weak smirk to Garrus and he chuckles, nudging her with his boot hard enough to knock her off balance. It works in breaking her trance, he finds, as her smirk becomes a bit more genuine as she slaps at his foot. "Cut the cuteness, Vakarian."

"Legacy," Garrus says, ignoring her and knowing it's best to try and keep moving towards the goal of destroying the source of all of their concerns. "Account for any variables relying on the Normandy's position within the arms of the Citadel. I want to get close enough to make sure we destroy Harbinger but within firing distance. I'll do the rest."

"How many shots do you think it'll take?"

He looks to Rym and smiles wickedly at the thought of finally being able to blast Harbinger out of existence. "I want to fire a hole through the Citadel. Just to be sure _nothing_ is left."

"The Alliance is going to be _pissed_." His mate chuckles and leans her head against his knee. "Bastards should be helping us and not looking forward to literally committing genocide."

"Humans seem too much like krogan," Rym adds with a shift of her weight. "They are idiots, Shepard. You should leave them."

"She plans to." He knows he's supplying that for her, but if this mission has shown him anything, it's that they don't deserve to have to continue this way at the ends of their governments' strings.

The others nod in agreement as Jane gives him a curious look, but he decides to save it for later. They've just overcome her guilt. The rest can wait till they get off this station and into the welcoming walls of their home on the Normandy.

"Vakarian-Spectres," Legacy's voice breaks the silence once more as the shuttle begins to slow and create that weightless feeling of diving down. "We have arrived on the location of Miss Lawson's Omni-Tool. Shall we land?"

"Yes," Jane says as she holds out a hand in silent request for help up and Garrus takes it, pulling her up as he too stands. "Everyone, be ready, but keep weapons off hand. She's a friend and I want to try to talk her down before we rush in with our guns in her face." She huffs a humorless laugh. "Miranda isn't really one for having that sort of greeting."

"Shepard," Rym says as she holsters her weapon and checks her Tool. "Krios' Tool reads nearby, towards the docks."

Nodding, Jane turns to Garrus to lead and he hums in understanding, she's not at her best. Moving to the hatch, he takes a glance to the team to make sure they're ready with their helmets before swinging it open to reveal the refugee camps. Or, at least that's where he thinks they are solely because of the high chambers, numerous cargo crates shaped into small sectors, and multitude of nonmilitary ships docked nearby and awaiting occupants. Everything else is nothing like he remembers.

Scattered everywhere are belongings, either crushed underfoot or turned into makeshift barricades from the horrors that soon flooded in and all left behind in a desperate flee before the Reapers closed the Citadel arms and began their harvest. Even without bodies to be seen and still shrouded in the thin blanket of mist, the sight is heartbreaking to see as it only illustrates just how little time there was for people to evacuate and how many were left behind. One those, Garrus knows, were the very people he is sure both Kolyat and Miranda are looking for.

He knows what had happened to Thane, who died fighting the panicking crowds in order to save his son and Poe, but McKnight - another close friend - was never accounted for. Seeing this place and knowing what he does about the Reapers, Garrus knows the truth is not a good one and he knows Miranda isn't one for blind hope, but these hallucinations do funny things to people's minds.

Sobs lift to their ears and they slowly begin to walk towards the dimly lit memorial sector of the camps. No longer are there numerous images and memorials to the dead and missing along the walls, long since torn down in struggles and terror, but the heavy feeling of despair weighs heavy enough to speak of what this place truly is. It's a place to say goodbye, once and for all.

Sitting on the ground amongst the undulating fog, Miranda is rocking and hiccuping as she cradles a body. It's unnerving to see the ever happy and cheerful Margo McKnight emotionless in his death, but Garrus knows this can't truly be the man. The Reapers would never leave a single body among all the others to rot away when it could be used in the harvest.

This is Miranda's nightmare, to know she's lost the one she loves.

"Please come back," the dark hair woman whispers through her mask. "Don't leave me…" Garrus leaves his wife to be the one to kneel beside their friend and lay a hand on her shoulder. "Oh, Shepard," Miranda says, not looking over. "He was the only one that truly made me feel human. I wasn't some perfect woman, I was _his_ perfect woman."

"I know," his mate whispers softly. "But he wouldn't want you to dwell on this. He'd want you to remember the good between you both. He wouldn't want you to waste away mourning him."

Miranda finally looks to her and Garrus sees the absolute brokenness in her eyes. "I… I was pregnant." Nearly everyone's mouths fall open in shock as both Jane and Garrus know she could never have them on her own - and, thus, resulting in the birth of their own children when Lawson was trying experiments with Jane's own body. "...I lost it…" she whispers and starts to sob, pulling Margo to her chest and ducking her head against his gray neck. "I'm so sorry…"

Frowning, Jane looks up to Sidonis just as he opens his Tool to run a scan. His mandibles flick in confusion before his eyes meet Jane's, then Garrus', and he nods, mouthing, 'It's alive.'

When his wife turns back to Miranda, the woman is still lost and falling deeper. Even when Jane speaks, she seems to jump and stare in confusion. "Why do you think you lost the baby?"

"I heard it crying… Crying… Somewhere out there, and I just _knew_."

"But we can show you the truth-"

"No you can't," she snaps, scowling. "I know my own body."

"Miranda… This is all in your head." She frowns. "I'm sorry, but Margo is gone. He's not coming back, but he wouldn't want this-"

"Stop telling me what he'd want!"

Jane doesn't falter or move and Garrus kneels down, lying. "Turians are better than most technology for telling pregnancies, and I can assure you that you still are." Miranda seems to calm, but looks at him with a deep furrow of confusion in her brows. She seems to trust him more than Jane to tell the truth and, perhaps, it's due in part to the fact that he's both never been one to say niceties to avoid arguments or even show Miranda the most of care since the beginning. "Think about your baby. Would he want you to have his baby and be happy? Or stay here?"

"I…" She looks once more to the body in her arms and it seems to have less color and substanance, even its clothes seeing to lose color as the sight loses focus. Seeing this, Jane lays a hand on her back. "But Margo?"

"We'll have a ceremony for him. For everyone," Jane says. "I promise." As Miranda finally nods and her arms begin to lower the body back into the licking wisps of fog, Jane stands and offers a hand. "Come on. You'll be safe with us."

As Lawson's hand slides into her own, Garrus looks to others and sees their attentions towards the docks. He hums and looks between his wife comforting Miranda and the sight of a form on the docks, deciding he has to move or risk losing the son of their good friend to the abyss. Motioning to the others to watch after the two women, he moves somewhere between a run and a walk to get to Kolyat as the boy stands at the very edge of a docking strut, staring out past the barrier and towards the stars.

"Kolyat," he says softly, passively.

"Garrus," he greets absently, still staring out with what Garrus can see as tears on his cheeks. "I watched my father die, you know… I haven't told anyone, just pretended it never happened or that I didn't know what had happened, but I did." Ducking his head, he closes his eyes with a loud and stuffy inhale. "He was trying to create a wall between the crowds and Poe and me climbing into a ship's cargo hold. We were the last ones who could fit and the captain was seconds away from just launching, closing the hatch on any poor person still half out of the ship.

"My father stood there, not throwing a single punch and merely guarding as scared people surrounded him. They outnumbered him and he eventually faltered just enough for someone to get in a punch." His green eyes finally turn to Garrus and they glisten with tears. "Once that happened, it never stopped. They never stopped, even when the ship was closing. The last thing I saw was my father fall and the crowd beginning to…" He swallows thickly and closes his eyes as he fights completely falling into the painful solipsism. "They killed him, Garrus. And I don't know how to ever forget that - I _can't_ forget it because I'm a fucking drell!"

The boy balls his fists and Garrus rumbles comfortingly. "It doesn't take a drell to remember the pain of loss, Kolyat. It will never go away," he says softly with deep sadness as he remembers watching his mother slip away. "But you do have the memories of him. And the knowledge that he is somewhere better, brighter, and with the one he loves. He will watch over you."

He frowns and looks at his hands. "Did you ever lose someone?"

"Yes. Many people." Garrus steps closer, close enough to touch, and lays a hand on his shoulder. "I lost my mother. She was beautiful and the first person in my life to show my undying love. It… it hurt to lose her." He tilts his head to catch Kolyat's eyes. "But I know she is with the Spirits and I can find peace in her no longer being in pain from her illness."

"Illness?" Kolyat looks up into his eyes in shock. "She was sick?"

Garrus nods and slowly backs up, guiding an unknowing Kolyat from the edge. "She had something called Corpralis. It… hurt to see her slowly losing herself, forgetting her life and those she loved." He fights the pained keens and tries to smile. "But now she's free."

"I… I never knew. I'm sorry. Losing memories is… I just can't imagine something like that." He bites his lip and his two eyelid flicker open and closed. "I… I still have the memories of my father. The _good_ ones. And I know how to honor him with the Goddesses."

His mandibles flick in a smile and he nods once in agreement. He knows the relationship between the two was shaky, but he also knows they were repairing it, sharing in their lives, towards the end, and the fact of death wasn't something unknown to them. Thane was terminal, and Kolyat knew that, and it may have been horrific to see his father die in the way he did, Thane would always protect his child. In a saddening way, death caused by ensuring his son could live would have been what he'd have chosen over dying in a hospital bed of Kepral's.

If Garrus ever had to, he'd rather die protecting his family at the cost of a painful end than wither away at some sickness.

Hand on Kolyat's back, Garrus helps the boy to the others. Miranda seems much better and collected enough to stand on her own and control her tears, but he know speech is beyond her right now. Garrus knows that only the proof of her pregnancy on the Normandy will truly bring her back, even if she'll still carry the weight of knowing Margo is gone on her for the rest of her life. It's in these moments that Garrus hopes there is some sort of afterlife if for those he knows to be able to find peace with those they have lost.

"Let's get the fuck out of here," Jane says as she helps Miranda, then Kolyat into the shuttle after Legacy. "Legacy thinks he's got everything he needs to blow part of this Citadel to hell."

"Can't wait," Garrus agrees with a growl as he climbs in behind the rest of the squad and pulls the hatch closed tightly. With their position, leaving will be much easier by weaving through the remaining ships docks on this level. Once out of the reach of the communication's interference - which Garrus suspects is caused by either Harbinger or something left from the Reapers - they can contact the Normandy and begin the process of preping the guns for their destructive cleanup.


	70. Chapter 70

Garrus

"Sidonis, get your ass to the MedBay to get those wounds looked at," Jane orders even before the shuttle's hatch is completely open. Still, the man nods and takes Miranda without command, knowing full well that she comes first in being reassured of her pregnancy. No one wants to really bring it up with her still in a state of silent and withdrawn silence, so Garrus has already sent word ahead through his Omni-Tool to Solus to prep for an examination.

They all storm into the lift as Joker comes over the intercom, confused and, if Garrus can tell the tone of voice right, concerned. " _Hey, so...uh… What the hell happened down there? You were completely silent for a while there. We were almost fixing to send someone after you."_

"We had some wonderful trips down fucked up lane," Jane says as she jabs the Crew Deck's command with so much force that her finger slides through the haptic interface. "How long have we been down?"

" _Six hours,"_ Aelia says as the group of them stand around impatiently. " _We had assumed there could be communications interference if the Reapers scrambled them when they took the Citadel, but we'd have thought you'd repaired it enough to send a message."_

"Yeah, we weren't really in the right mind to do that."

"But it's good you didn't send anyone," Garrus adds, knowing Arcanus, as XO, took a judgment call to keep their people aboard. Perhaps he knows them and their knack for things always seeming to go wrong enough to make the good calls even when they seem quite the opposite. "Down there… It wasn't normal."

" _Normal?"_

"It'll make sense soon." He looks to Legacy. "I need you and Rym in the AI Core setting up a link between you, Joker, and myself in the Main Battery. We're going to be firing in Alliance airspace, and I'd much rather do our job before they catch on and try to stop us."

" _Uh… what are we shooting?"_

"Jane, you need to see the doctor," he continues, ignoring the pilot's questions that soon turn into 'guys? Hello? Hel-lo? Come on, this isn't funny'.

"I'm not going to bleed to death," his mate argues, crossing her arms with a shake of her head. "I've put out my blood, sweat, and tears into the war just to try and bring that fucker down. There's no way you're taking the final shot without me there."

" _Alright now. You better tell me what the hell is going on."_

The doors to the elevator swing open to the entire group flooding out, all but running to where they need to be in anxious anticipation. Every one of them felt the power of a Reaper's ability to alter minds - even 'dead' - and it's certainly not something they want to let continue. With Legacy, Rym, Sidonis, and Miranda heading to the MedBay and AI Core, Garrus and Jane leave Kolyat to find himself somewhere to watch the Thanix cut through Harbinger.

Within the Main Battery, Garrus immediately activates the cannon's console and begins to boost its power. While he works, his wife moves to the readout screen along the left wall and starts to mess with the videosource, most likely looking for something through which they can watch the fireworks. "Channel 8B. It's under the hull, above the Thanix."

She nods as the intercom emits the sound shift in sound that means the cockpit has activated its channel. " _Uh… Am I getting this right or is Legacy having some sort of error? Did you actually find a_ _ **Reaper**_ _down there?"_ His voice is high in disbelief and Garrus chuckles softly at the way it makes his voice almost break into a squeak.

"Not just any Reaper, _Harbinger_ ," he says as Jane makes a soft noise of triumph when she finds the right exterior camera channel. The pilot makes a shocked choke and Garrus rumbles in agreement. If he wasn't there to see it, he'd be just as stunned at the impossibility of finally getting the chance to take out their frustrations on the very Reaper that led the war and hounded them every step of the way. "Use Legacy's work to line us up," he adds as his terminal receives his own copy of the data and begins to calibrate the Thanix according, raising the power to account for Harbinger's hull. "Then, when I give the go, be ready for a second shot-"

"We want to send this fucker to hell in pieces," his mate explains with a smirk thrown over her shoulder and he nods, sharing that exact sentiment. "And then be ready to haul ass out of here because the Alliance is bound to be _pissed_."

" _Do I even want to know?"_

"Probably not," Garrus answers distractedly, not taking his complete attention from his alterations to his previous firing algorithms. He needs to adjust the draw from the Battery to Engineering, pulling power to boost the Thanix while also leaving them enough to make a quick escape. Only bad thing? This is definitely to call for repeated shots and, the more the Thanix needs to fire, the more power draw. "But let's just say we're giving the Council Towers a new skylight."

"You mean after the one Sovereign already made?" Jane chuckles and steps back from the vidscreen. "Aelia, connect the cockpit, AI Core, and Main Battery on one communications channel. We need to hear any and all calls, real-time."

" _Understood, ma'am."_ A click before there is a shuffling, most likely from the newly opened channel to the Core. " _Anything else?"_

"Give this message to the entire ship. 'Prepare for one big fucking show of fireworks and feel free to roast marshmallows'."

Joker comes on, the message playing in the background over the ship wide intercom, and confirms they're in position. " _If you're ready, now's the time before we all get some unwanted attention."_

Garrus can feel his wife's eyes on his back as he lines up the weapon according to Legacy's transmitted calculations. It's not exactly as if they had an actual ping signal to target and fire on, but he trusts explicitly in Legacy's calculations and adjusts the weapon to the coordinates as set with the Normandy as the central point. It's a very antiquated method, but it's the best they have with the interference of Harbinger's presence on the surrounding airspace.

At least one good thing about the silence is that they won't receive any Alliance warnings thanks to the communications jam. Once they destroy Harbinger, however, there's bound to be a flood of both warnings and something very similar to the 'what the hell were you thinking?!' he's gotten used to in his life.

The confirmation of readiness from the AI Core comes in just as Garrus has boosted the firing output by eighty-seven percent above the numbers usually deemed adequate for offensive maneuvers. He once told Legion it was for those rare occasions when there needed to be just a _bit_ more power pulled - and the result of organic defiance against the laws of logic - and what better time is there to 'pull it out of his sleeve' than when they have the one Reaper that led the very war?

As the Thanix slides out from the Normandy's underbelly, nothing but the kinetic shielding separating the Main Battery from the emptiness of space. "Weapons ready," he says as he sets the last lock into the coding before looking over his shoulder to his mate. "Orders are yours, Jane."

One of her brows lifts, but she soon chuckles. "Orders are mine, but you're still taking the shot? How like you, Vakarian." She smirks knowingly at his smug rumble.

"I always told you I'd be the one to take the final shot."

Jane nods and looks to the screen showing the damaged hull of the Citadel, the Normandy at too far of a distance for safety that they won't actually be able to see Harbinger until the Thanix fires and tears open the breach into a massive wound. Leaning on the small console jutting from the wall before it, she locks her eyes on the image as she speaks her command.

"Send this fucker to hell." Garrus growls at the wish that Harbinger could still feel this - or feel any pain - as he hits the launch command, the Thanix roaring to life.

Molten metal erupts at a speed close to the speed of light and immediately solidifies within the freezing cold of space, turning into a massive steak that pierces through the station's outer wall. It'll only take five seconds to prep for another blast and Garrus knows there is no time to celebrate with the others on the comm channel. They are racing against the Alliance's response to the unpermitted weapons fire.

"Line up and fire again," Jane commands with a sharp tone, shoulders squared as she glares at the image of a now gaping hole in the Citadel where only darkness waits.

"Say the word," he says to his mate when he receives the new coordinates from Legacy and Rym's assurance of power transfer. "Weapons prepped."

" _Drift adjusted._ "

She doesn't yell, doesn't swear or make a joke. Instead, she simply orders, "Fire."

Garrus' hands fly over the cannon's controls and fires again, the Thanix bucking as it fires without a sound, anything it emits sucked up by the vacuum of space. It's all the same as he knows very well the sound of the turian altered Reaper cannon. He may never get over the sound of them, the destruction, and relishes in the feeling of using their own weapons against the head of their collective forces. The feeling would only be better if Harbinger could feel it, emit that mechanical scream as the shot lands, but he'll just have to do with the sense of victory radiating off his mate from where she still stares at the image of a Citadel swallowing the second shot.

With this shot, the damage to the station has grown wide enough to reveal Harbinger itself. Lying half overturned and revealing its belly, the cannon fire hits between its underplating. While taking a massive amount from its armor, the shot isn't good enough and he preps the next shot without a word from Jane. Instead, she orders Joker to move the ship so they can get the best look at Harbinger for this next shot.

" _Uh… How much longer? Because that last one opened up communications and, well, the Alliance is losing their shit."_

"Tell them to shove it," Jane snaps as she looks to Garrus in question and he nods. 'Yes, we're ready for another.' "Fire again."

The Normandy rumbles once again with the Thanix's blast and he can see from his own readings how Harbinger begins to break apart, pieces blown out into the weightless expanse still strewn with debris of the war. He smirks and rumbles in satisfaction of seeing the Reaper form shattering beneath the weapon at his fingertips and wife's command. It's almost perfect to prepare for the next assault until Joker comes back over the comm and warns them of the Alliance moving to take action.

"Connect me with them," Jane says, hinds gripping the console hard enough Garrus can hear the armor of her gloves creak. "And line up for another." Joker mumbles something before Aelia speaks to alert them of the communications transfer.

" _Normandy. This is the Systems Alliance Command. You are ordered to cease all fire and land, immediately, for detainment."_

"You can shove that up your ass," Jane says without vitriol in her voice like usual. "As Spectres, we have every authority to destroy any and all potential risks to the galaxy as a whole."

" _You are firing within Alliance airspace without prior clearance or warning-"_

"Unless you _want_ people to lose their lives because they're going batshit crazy on the Citadel, then stand down and stay the fuck away from my ship." Finally, she looks to Garrus with a stern look, her features expressionless as she nods. "Fire."

He growls in affirmative and fires once more, watching the reading as she comes up beside him to watch the smaller vidscreen above his terminal. Harbinger takes another hit, this one crashing into and destroying the Reaper into a large explosion that topples the Council Tower and blows some of the already cracked and damaged Citadel hull apart.

" _God dammit, Normandy!"_ The man's voice twists into a snarl as Garrus feels his mate's hand on his back. Looking to her, she motions to prepare another cannon blast.

"I want a crater where Harbinger used to be-"

" _Commander Shepard! I order you to cease fire!"_

"Consider this my resignation," she barks and glares up to the intercom's speaker. "Aelia, lose this signal." When the co-pilot agrees, Jane returns to look at the screen about the cannon console and nods as she crosses her arms. "I want to see space on the other side of the Citadel. Again."

Garrus, instead of firing, grabs her hand from where it folds into her elbow and pulls her over and between him and his console. Covering her hands and guiding them, he uses her fingers to click the commands for pre-fire prep before they, together, launch the molten blast. As the Thanix bucks once more and Normandy purrs all around them with its destructive blow, he feels her exhale heavily and lean back against him to watch the screen.

Though fire and debris now shroud their view, there's no doubt of the cannon's force as the AI Core crew begins to chime in. " _Confirming damage to the outer hull of the Citadel, Shepard-Spectre."_

Jane nods, her hair sticking to the edges of his armor's plating and pulling from her already messy hair caked with grime from whatever foul smelling waste filled the Presidium lake. "Joker, get us the fuck out of this system." As she gets confirmation and the comm goes silent once more, she pulls from Garrus to shut off the console. "I doubt they'll take my resignation just like that. I'm probably looking at a manhunt."

"Let them come," Garrus says with a low growl churning in his chest and pulls her hand to turn her around. "We're doing actual Spectre work that's not just politics with a pretty, explosive bow on top."

She snorts. "For once." Smiling with relief written all over her face, she steps closer and lifts on her toes in direction for him to lean down as she wraps her arms around his neck. "We did it. Even if it took us a whole war to do, we finally destroyed that bastard." He nods with a deep hum and nuzzles his mandible to her cheek. "Even dead, that fucker still managed to nearly kill us."

"Should have known you can't kill us with our own insanity," he retorts with a chuckle and nips gently at her temple, groaning at the disgusting taste of the lake water that has dried on her sky. "Jane… you really need a shower." Humming, he steps back to hold her at a distance and give a scolding look. " _After_ you get checked out by Solus."

"Should have known you wouldn't let that slide," she says, but nods in agreement before lifting to her toes to kiss his throat. "How about you take care of the twins while I get checked out and then we can share that shower?"

He purrs thickly, arousal starting to perk at the thought of the two of them, stripped bare and beneath the cleansing waters. "As if you even need to ask." Leaning down, he kisses her, sliding his tongue against hers for a moment before cupping her cheek and caressing his thumb over her cheek. "I think we should really consider that retirement."

She nods and covers his hand. "I'm seriously considering it and trying to pick out ideas on how to actually pull it off." Kissing his gloved palm, she rounds him and starts to head out of the opening doors. "Joker, Aelia, take us to the Destiny Ascension. I want to see their faces when I tell them about their precious tower."


	71. Chapter 71

Jane

"So… She'd be alive, but not really?" Walking towards the cockpit and adjoining airlock, Jane catches the last bit of conversation between Joker and Rym. Without needing all that much context, she already knows what this unnamed 'she' is.

_EDI. Have they found a way to repair her?_

Motioning Garrus to hang back, Jane climbs the ramp into the cockpit. Not meaning to seem like she's purposely eavesdropping, she makes sure her boot steps are heavy enough to call attention to herself. Once he looks to her, she gives Joker the moment to send her away, but he, instead, greets her with a solemn nod.

Rym gives her own greeting before looking back to the pilot and shaking her head, continuing the conversation. "We haven't completely compiled Legacy's coding, the heretics', and her own coding together into a fully functioning and adaptable AI." Joker's expression falls at that and Jane crosses her arms, looking to the ground. If they can't manage to repair the damage, then there isn't much hope for any of the synthetics to retrieve the enhancements they had in hand for only a short time.

"In other words," Joker says with a leaden sigh, frown twisting into a disappointed scowl. "You aren't any closer and are just wasting my time?"

Despite the usual response one would get from a spired krogan, Rym takes the high road and merely hums in her throat with another slight shake of her massive head. "No. We are closer. We've managed to piece together what pieces of her code we have and can implement it back into the Normandy." She looks to Jane as she adds, "But we wanted to make sure bringing her back online was okay."

"Shit yeah!" Joker jerks, definitely causing some pain that he's too pumped to feel in the moment, but will definitely kick himself later for once the adrenaline drains. "Bring her back!" He looks to Jane and waves a hand at Rym. "What the hell are they thinking? As if we wouldn't want her back."

Still, Jane can tell something still lies on the woman's tongue and she has to know what before giving agreement to something that may not be what they expect. She's dealt with way too many unwanted surprises to willingly accept another. "There's something you aren't saying," she tells the krogan woman and Rym nods, frowning.

"Her personality matrix is damaged." Joker's mouth falls open and his entire face pales. The pain is something Jane can entirely understand and she holds back the clench in her chest to hear what else Rym is saying. "We've managed to find a copy of her from relatively close to the blast, but we can't implement it into her programming if we were to restart her because the coding lacks the proper commands to execute who she is."

"She's there, but… not?" Joker closes his eyes to fight the tears shining in his eyes and grips the armrests of his chair, most likely causing more damage. "Can't you give me some fucking _good_ news?" He snaps, hurt in his sharp tone.

Trying to give him something worth the pain, she looks to Rym and asks, "How long would it take with everything Legacy has from his own and the heretic's combined code?"

Rym's pupils widen and shrink as she seems to weigh her words. "It may take years."

Joker reaches his breaking point and puts his head in his hands, shoulders shaking with barely held control of his sobs. Jane frowns for him, not knowing the pain beyond imaginings. Stepping closer, she lays a hand on his shoulder in silent support and thanks whatever gods out there that he doesn't pull away and withdraw.

"I don't know if it'll help, but we could activate what we have of her," Rym says softly, looking away from the man.

"She wouldn't be _her_ ," Joker whispers as lays his hands in his lap, defeated and no longer fighting the tears. "I won't have something that's no better than a copy. It wouldn't be fair to her just so I could hear her voice." He shakes he head and Jane sees as his tears fall into his bruised hands. "I don't want her voice, I want _her_ and just her."

Rym nods and quietly steps out of the cockpit, knowing when to give space to the grieving pilot. Thankfully, Aelia, too, already knew to become sparse even before Jane came into the conversation. However, without truly knowing what to say, Jane merely keeps her hand on his shoulder and asks, "Would you like some time?"

He nods softly and sniffs. "I'd like… to get some time alone. Maybe drink myself into a blind stupor." Looking up to her, Jane sees his eyes already red and swelling, tears rolling down his cheeks. "Tell it to me straight. Will she come back?"

Before she can speak a word, Garrus' voice cuts through the air as he stands at the threshold of the cockpit. "Yes." Joker looks over, confusion and surprise in his eyes over Garrus breaking the always unsteady tension between the two men ever since… well, she died. "The time apart will hurt," he says, eyes distant as his voice hums with his own pushed back pain that only reminds Jane of all the shit he must have been through without him, that he still carries. "But you made the right decision. A shadow of her is nothing compared to the real thing and will only harden you, make you unable to see when she truly returns."

"How, though? How did you manage it?"

"I had no choice," he says plainly before turning away and heading towards the airlock, his say laid out and heart flayed open. Even Jane doesn't always hear of his time where they were torn apart, and to share it with a man he still lays blame only tells her that perhaps the war is not what keeps him up at night every night.

Joker is quiet before closing his eyes and breathing deep. "I… I think I'm going to take some time. I need to… I don't know…"

Understanding, Jane nods and steps away. "Take what you need. Aelia can cover the controls."

"Shepard?" He calls as she's halfway to the airlock and she glances back. "Thanks. And… thank Garrus for me."

With a nod, she leaves him to his pain and personal coping. Perhaps, soon, he may find himself in need of a shoulder to lean on or an ear to hear him out, but she understands the need to have one's own moment of introspection and privacy before coming to another. Acceptance is only found through first taking the step of showing your weakness enough to allow someone to clean your wounds.

In the airlock, she and her mate are silent until the doors open upon the Destiny Ascension's inner docks. When he moves to leave, she grabs his hand to stop him. He turns with a questioning rumble and opens his mouth to speak, but she closes the distance before he can speak. Wrapping her arms around his waist, she lays her head against his ever present armor and just holds onto him when he encircles her in return.

"I love you. You know that, right?" She says quietly, barely above a whisper, as she slides her cheek against his chestplate to look up into his eyes.

Purring, he tilts his head in curiosity and his mandibles flare into a tender smile. "Never thought otherwise." He chuckles and cups her chin, thumb caressing her cheek. "I love you too. Always have and always will."

"Good," she says simply with a matching smile, squeezing her arms around his midsection once more and he jokingly grunts.

"Easy on your husband. You might break him." He laughs when she drops her hands to swat at him. Once scolded, he lets her retake his hand in hers and continue on their way.

They receive the same stares, glares, and murmured talk as every other shithole arm of the galaxy except that, this time, the judgement is aimed down the noses of the supposed _leaders_ of said galaxy. In a way, Jane can't blame them for that after giving their people the proper guidelines of how to treat the two vanguards of the entire fucking war. Considering that, these people are leading at _something_. _Too bad it isn't anything good for the state of the damn galaxy._

It isn't even as if their only problem is the 'mistakes' they made during the war. She's seen the media coverage of them - hard not to - and knows that any bit of juicy gossip is just one more thing to despise them for. Everything under the sun was fair game to the media leeches from their military records to the fucking color of their underwear.

There was only one thing that managed to make the constant coverage worthwhile. Ever since Liara came through with the doctored paperwork, the public eye turned away from their children in search of more intriguing information. After all, who wants to hear about the two adopted babies doing absolutely nothing entertaining when you can question their adoptive parents' every move? The only concern the media had towards their children was to doubt Jane or Garrus had any right to care for another life not their own. _As if all we know is how to take them._ _Asshole pricks._

"You're thinking too much," her mate says with a glance down over his shoulder guard. "Letting them get to you?"

As if on cue, a cluster of reporters and their hovering cameras shove through the few civilians still allowed on the Ascension for the menial tasks and actual work that have clustered around the edges of the docking bay in attempt to seem unassuming. Questions swarm them and the reporters try to shout over each other as they needle at the two of them, throwing out so called 'damning evidence' to any and all acts under the sun they felt Jane and Garrus responsible.

"I swear," she whispers up to her mate. "This is getting ridiculous." Unable to pass them, she sighs and releases her husband's hand to raise both of her own in the air. "Calm the fuck down!" Placing on her 'Commander Shepard' mask, she narrows her eyes at the last reporter to seem to follow the direction before starting to speak. "I will answer two questions and only two. If I don't like them, I'm telling you all to fuck off." Her lips twitches as she fights a disgusted scowl at how they squawk like starving vultures.

"...Over here!..."

"...What do you have to say about Thessia?..."

"... the Citadel?..."

"...Do you support the Alliance in the war..."

"... the open possibility of genocide?..." She rubs her forehead and gives Garrus a 'what was I thinking' look before sighing and deciding to take the very next question she hears out of the torrent.

"... a turian..." That comes from a human male, something like Earthen News on his badge but Jane can't be sure with all the bustle. Still, she's a woman of her word and it _is_ the first question she hears after her inward promise, so it's a question that will be answered.

"Shut up!" she commands with a flaring hand in the air, the static of her biotics getting the attention of the crowd instantly. Hell, it's as good a threat as cracking her knuckles in a one on one, so like hell she won't use it, etiquette be damned. "You," she says as she points to the origin of the most likely racist comment. "Repeat that."

"Many are questioning the legitimacy of your relationship with a turian," he begins and Garrus stiffens behind her. "There are even many claiming that the union was to ensure to the public that the Alliance and Hierarchy banded together in the war on a mutual agreement, that it discredits the stories that the Primarch held the cure for the Genophage as a bargaining chip. What do you have to say to that?"

"First, if you actually care to do research, you'd find our marriage records are years old. Even before Spectre Arterius' attack on Eden Prime-"

"But papers can be doctored," an asari cuts in, receiving a heavy sigh for Jane and slight growl from her mate. Any more of this and there are bound to be punches thrown, and she isn't sure which one of the two of them will be throwing them.

"The idea of marrying for peace and cooperation isn't even legal anymore without consent from both sides," she says as she shakes her head, throwing her arms up. "And humans haven't even done that for hundreds of years!" Scowling, she points at the original questioner before swinging over the crowd. "And _second_ , if you think this was all a show to instill cooperation without anything in return, you've got your heads up your asses. Alliances don't happen because you ask nicely, they happen when you put some fucking work into it." The crowd moves into another uproar and Jane begins to question why she even agreed to another question when her eyes snap open at a statement so clearly cutting through the rest.

"... marriage a publicity stunt…"

That practically makes her mate snarl and step forward from where he was comfortably covering her back. The reporters all seem to emit a unified yelp of shock that reminds Jane all too much of fearful prey cowering before the ferocious predator. It's good to know she has that very predator by her side, ready to be the two meter powerhouse she can't be in these situations.

Hearing his gravely pants of rage, she lays a hand on his arm to be his tether. Last thing they need is to start a brawl with every reporter on the Destiny Ascension under the claim of defending their honor under media scrutiny. She has every feeling that'll accomplish the exact opposite of what they're looking for right now.

"I'll take it from here, Vakarian," she says as she uses her body to create a wall between him and the crowd. Lifting a finger, she clears her throat. "While I love to hear all the _wonderful_ things you say about me, my husband, unfortunately, does not." Smiling, she crosses her arms behind her back. "However, I will address something that seems to be an issue with a single statement." She waits for everyone's attention before looking at each of the cameras to make sure she even has the viewers' attentions. "If you think our marriage, bonding, or whatever you want to refer to it as, is a sham meant only to get public attention and recognition, then have a field day because this publicity stunt comes with enough fucking to put asari to shame."

With that, she spins, grabs Garrus' cowl, and yanks him down into a deep, hungry kiss full of tongue and heavy moans from both sides. Cameras flicker as she smiles against him and finally breaks away when they're breathless and hot enough to do that fucking she was talking about. Even as her chest heaves in pants, she manages to stare down the crowd with a smug smirk and throws their cameras her middle finger as Garrus takes her hand to haul her through the parting crowd.

Entering the lift seems to come sooner than she remembers, but, then again, how can she remember much of anything about the layout of the Ascension when he shoves her against the wall and reclaims her mouth. She moans when his hand slides into her hair to hold her still as his tongue slides in and strokes her own, hot breath carrying his groans and rolling purrs. Feeling his leg slide between her own and lift her onto her toes, Jane closes her eyes and cups his face, nibbling and suckling his tongue as alternates his caresses to her tongue with his rough top and smooth underside.

He trails kisses over her flushed neck, free hand caressing her through her clothes and working her up in a way all too indecent for a trip to see the Council, but she can't tell him no. Doesn't _want_ to tell him no. Instead, she hopes the elevator break down or stall long enough to enjoy the aftereffects of practically making out with her mate in front of reporters and the entire galaxy watching on their vidscreens. It's more arousing than she knows it should be to lay claim on him and he on her in return.

Unfortunately, it ends all too soon when they feel the slight vertigo of the lift coming to a stop and hear the hydraulic slide of the doors opening. Jane groans as he gives her one more harsh nip of his mouth plates against her pulse before pulling back to press their foreheads. She smiles at the heated darkness from his dilated pupils that she's sure matches her own human ones and caresses his scarred cheek. "Later?"

Garrus nods and rumbles, covering her hand as he leans up straight. "As if you even need to ask." Glancing down the large corridor that will take them to the Council, he releases a tired, raspy sigh and jerks his chin forward. "Ready to hear what we did wrong this time?"

"No, but let's go anyways."

"Spectres," Irissa greets them the moment they step into the chambers and before the doors even close on their asses. It's all the warning they need to know this is not going to be a pleasant conversation. "We've received troubling claims from the Alliance."

"You opened fire on the Citadel? What were you thinking?!" Jane glares at the Dalatrass' ability to always find _something_ wrong with what she and Garrus do. _Definitely still pissed about me shitting on her offer with the krogan._

"We were thinking about destroying a Reaper," Garrus explains matter of factly, crossing his arms. "The very Reaper that caused your first and would have caused any other of your exploration teams to lose their minds."

The turian Councilor scoffs with a growl and looks to the others. "We have no reports to confirm this, do we?" She shakes her head in answer to her own question before narrowing her eyes at Garrus, and Jane is reminded again at the history these two have and how much it's obviously twisted and changed. "You opened fire without proper clearance from the Alliance and we're expected to clean up your mess?"

"We did our job."

Osoba finally speaks, directing his attention to Jane. "You must understand the state of Earth, Commander." She holds back her correction, not wanting this to take forever if they get stuck on trivialities, annoying as they are. "The Alliance is trying to keep everyone calm and safe, and they see the Normandy opening fire on a seemingly deserted Citadel? Just outside of Earth?"

"And you couldn't do something _better_ than _destroy_ the Citadel?" Linron flicks her hand in the air with a chuff and looks to Irissa at her right. "It will take only longer to repair!"

"That is not the topic of this meeting." The asari Councilor lifts her chin and stares down at the two Spectres. "The Alliance is demanding action from the Council on the matter of you firing after they ordered you to cease fire. If they chose, they could have seen it as a terroristic act against humanity." Jane snorts in disbelief, looking up to the ceiling in exasperation until Osoba speaks once more.

"But we have, begrudgingly, come to a decision that it may have been needed."

Octavia clicks her talons on her console and still stares down her former lover with a flick of her mandible. "Until then, don't think we'll just jump to defend you. If, and only if, your claims are true, then we will release a public statement."

"Right," Jane says, drawing out the word. "Because that's what we want, you to make nice with everybody while ignoring the real issue here. That was _one_ Reaper. Granted, it was probably the most powerful of those bastards, but still." She moves closer to the Council. "They are _everywhere_ , just floating or sitting around like timebombs. I want to know what the fuck you're planning to do to protect any poor asshole near them."

"We are tending to the Reaper issue, I assure you." Something tells Jane she isn't going to like what the salarian Councilor has to say and, when it comes out, she finds she's right. "Crews are currently disassembling and studying what Reapers are the least damaged."

"You should be destroying them."

"We know the proper procedures-"

She cuts off Octavia with a sharp nod as she says, "Yeah. Blowing the fuckers up."

Linron shakes her head against that argument. "We are properly shielding them as we disassemble them."

"You're putting people in danger," Jane retorts with an annoyed clench of her jaw. "But, you know what? Fuck you all. Do what you want. It's not like you've ever listened to a word I've said." Leaving, she stops just as the doors slide open and put her in distance to both be heard by the Council and the waiting guards within the hall. "But don't be surprised when word gets out that the Council is _openly_ putting crews in danger because they're too stupid to pay attention to proof."


	72. Chapter 72

Garrus

His Omni-Tool begins to chime loudly in the middle of their testing of 'his reach and her flexibility', as she once teased. With her legs hooked over his shoulders and knees to her chest and he thrusting into her with a mindless intent to rut her senseless, he isn't really in the position or mood to answer. Still, his Tool rings insistently and intent on ruining their momentum.

Jane groans - a sound all too obviously _not_ aroused - when his hips stutter at the continuous, high wailing and looks up to him between her legs. "Don't you dare stop."

Growling, he smirks and shoves roughly into her, making her breasts bounce and lips part in a silent moan. "I don't plan to." He reaches between them and rubs at the junction of their bodies against that swollen nub, pulling a wanton whine from her lips as her thighs tense visibly. Knowing that she'll keep her legs in place so he can continuously hit that spot, he drops his other hand to her breast and glides the point of his talon over her peaked nipple.

His mate cries out and bucks, her walls clenching in the start of her imminent orgasm. Garrus moans and splays his mandibles to pant, tasting the air drenched in their strong musk and scents on his tongue. Head thrown back, he doesn't see her face as she comes undone, but he knows the sight by memory, her eyes clenched and mouth open in a silent scream as she arches against his body. His snarl is long, drawn out into an alternating sound between deep bass notes and higher pitches rumbles, as he can do nothing but follow her with the same chemistry they share in battle.

With the still present ringing from his Tool, Garrus knows he can't lock himself to her and withdrawals to the point that only his far ridges and tip remain within her as he fills her. Purring at her whimpering and uncontrolled twitches with each of his own spurts, he slowly grinds against her when the rush as lessened to extend their shared pleasure before finally pulling out before his arousal can build back up for a second round.

He slides down the bed and takes a moment to watch his seed leaking from her before lapping at her folds. Her gasp is music to his ears as he can still manage to surprise her with an act that seems so shocking and unexpected in her species, and he rumbles in amusement as he slides his tongue through their combined fluids and into her still trembling walls. He feels her hands moving over his fringe in any attempt to grip onto him and he swirls his tongue within her one last time before moving at her hands' demand.

Garrus crawls back up to her and kisses her deeply, swallowing her moans as their tongues tangle. She caresses his face as their movements turn from needy and full of hunger to a more tender and languid rediscovery of the intimacy of the other's taste and feel. She has always said she'd never get over kissing him and, for him, the feeling is entirely mutual as he purrs at the way her soft, plump tongue tries to twist and turn in imitation of his own.

Once again, his Tool makes itself known with an angry beeping of messages await his attention and both lovers sigh heavily enough to physically deflate. Ever the stubborn one, Jane grips tighter onto him as she shakes her head against his mouth with a grunt of defiance. He chuckles and covers her hands, gently prying them off his mandibles so he can press his forehead to hers.

"Dammit, Garrus. Silence the damn thing."

"Patience only makes the reward that much sweeter." Chuckling at her unconvinced snort and pout made all that more adorable with her post-sex flush and messy curls. "You can certainly wait a few minutes for me to see what's so important and then we can continue."

"Promises, promises.."

He kisses her on the forehead before sitting up and finally checking his Tool. "It's my dad," he says flatly and looks to her with a raised brow plate. "Any guesses?"

"Hmm…" She wiggles up to sit on the pillows beside him and lays her head on his shoulder to look. "'Garrus'," she says with a gruff imitation of his father's voice that sounds absolutely _nothing_ like him. "'This is your father. What has taken you so long to answer? Are you running off with that Spectre again? You need to file the proper paperwork!'"

He barks a laugh and wraps his arm around her shoulders. "He isn't that bad."

"Not _anymore_."

She smirks when he looks over to her with a chiding look and hums, changing the subject before his dad finally gives up with the call and barges in from across the galaxy. "Cover yourself." He pulls up the sheets and hands them to her. "I don't really want to talk about us not answering because we'd rather have sex."

"Wouldn't my appearance tell enough? I mean, they _have_ seen us after sex."

"Him suspecting is better than us making it obvious." Despite his argument, he still runs his talons through her hair to try and control some of it into a more believable state. "Ready?" She smiles and gives him a nod before kissing beneath his chin as he opens the call to the sight of his father with a slightly impatient look in his eyes.

"Spirits, Garrus. I was starting to worry." His father sighs and shakes his head in a look so blatantly an exasperated parent who just caught their child doing something ridiculous that it could be in a extranet sitcom. "Can you at least message me next time when you are in the middle of _activities?_ I'd much rather wait until you finish than start imagining all the mess you two could get into."

Jane chuckles against his shoulder as Garrus' mandibles flutter in embarrassment at being scolded like a fledgling, but also realization of how different his father has become in the short time following his final acceptance of the kind of man his son is and will always be. Rumbling, he strokes his mate's back as he, too, chuckles in time. "Well, you know how it can get."

"After living with you two, yes." His father hums and shifts his own Tool, creating a wave of static over his image because of the still shaky public communication. Garrus can understand how civilian usage is second to rebuilding channels needed for governments and prioritized correspondence. "Do you have a minute now?"

"Can it wait? We're in the middle of some-"

"Of course," Garrus interrupts, cutting off his mate's smart remark with a mock glare, to which she merely flutters her eyes innocently. "What do you need?" He asks his dad, running his talons through Jane's hair to occupy her and keep her from making this call unnecessarily long with her jokes.

His father is quiet a moment, looking to the side of the sensor before clearing his throat. "We've found a home." He frowns and his vocals rumble in, confusingly, shame. "There was no way to rebuild our own, but there was a set of homes outside of the city still intact and…"

 _And without anyone to return to them after the war._ Garrus hums with his own frown and feels Jane sigh heavily, cursing under her breath. The war took so many lives, soldier and civilian, and it's not something Garrus was not aware of. He saw the numbers every day, even in his sleep, and was never delusional enough to imagine those numbers were all worst case predictions. Turians were never ones to overlook the obvious for the sake of keeping the public blind and free of the fear of the truth.

Still, he also knows his people would never let go to waste that which they can use, and homes without families to use them would only fall under disrepair while so many went without. A life in a home full of ghosts is better than one on the streets or refugee camps. While not preferable to the better outcome of finding said families, using those dwellings not destroyed because of their distance from the cities for those still living makes complete sense so long as Garrus doesn't imagine what it would've felt like on the other side of the spectrum.

He knows his father and sister well enough to know that their habitation of this home was not one that came easy. The Vakarians were sure to have given the memory of the family proper respect before ever setting foot in the home or rebuilding their own live within. One question, though, is how they became the owners of what is sure to be a highly sought after commodity. His father and sister are not necessarily high on the tiers of their people, so surely they wouldn't have been the first to be offered a home, but Garrus isn't one to complain.

In curiosity, he still asks, "How? I wouldn't think intact buildings would be all that easy to come by."

"It's not." His father flicks his mandibles as he clicks his teeth together, a habit Garrus remembers from his childhood of when his father was often at a loss of words to express himself. "Technically, it isn't our home. It's yours."

Jane sits up in attention and lifts a brow. "Come again? How do _we_ have a home? On _Palaven_?"

"Consider it a 'gift' from the Primarch," he says, as if reciting something he obviously sees as entirely too ludicrous to be true. "We received a deed to this home stating that we were to tend to the property and hold it from any intruders until you return to Palaven." Finally, he looks up to the camera sensor with a soft smile. "It's a beautiful home. Sol and I still need to do some work to get it back to perfect condition, but I think you'd love it."

Garrus purrs as Jane looks to him in happiness and caresses her cheek. He's never had a home that wasn't immediately at risk from damage because of the war, and this may very well be the first step in their new life. Sure, it isn't a beach home in the tropics, but they can always work up to that. "What do you say?"

She grins wide with a spark in her eye that speaks of the many possibilities of the troubles they could still find in a domestic life. "I say fuck yeah."

His father chuckles and draws their attention back with a subvocal hum. "Good to hear. And from what I've seen of your stunt on the Destiny Ascension a few days ago, you could use some time away from the public eye." The couple chuckle as they share a guilty look between themselves and his father flicks his mandibles in exaggeration. "I take it that you'll be looking to cause more trouble with the media on Palaven?"

"Actually," Jane says with a grimace, her lip curling at the corner. "I'd rather we not have to deal with it."

"I wouldn't think Palaven would be as bad." Garrus rumbles in question to his father, surprised that his own people - usually so calm and collected - would be losing their minds as so much of the rest of the galaxy seems to have.

His father shakes his head once and static fills the screen as he starts to speak. "Actually, many don't care for the media uproar around the two of you. Primarch Victus has made sure to show that we have higher priorities than busying ourselves with gossip and rumors. While I can't guarantee you won't have some sort of crowd awaiting your arrival, I don't think it'll call for the two of you to give the same show as the Ascension."

"We're just easing stress."

"I highly doubt that is all it was, Jane." Tilting his head as the image clears completely, Garrus' father looks between them both. "While I don't expect you two to want to settle down immediately with this one visit, it would do you both some good to give yourself at least some time to forget your duties."

That statement alone sends a bolt of shock through Garrus as he audibly grunts in surprise. His father, the man who spent his life more at work than with his own family, is telling them, plain and simple, to take a break for themselves and from all responsibility. Things have truly changed over these past tumultuous years and Garrus can't truly say if he'd have ever imagined the extent.

What's worse is that the sense of elation Garrus had expected to feel at the sound of getting away from their duties doesn't fill him, and it doesn't seem to shine in his mate's eyes that lock with his own. What are they if not soldiers that lived and lost war? How will they even manage to cool the seemingly constant rush of adrenaline and settle down into a life full of nothing but what to cook in the evening and what vid to occupy their time? Is it even possible, or have they gone too far to be able to be free?

All he knows is that they can try, and they have to for their children. With that decision in mind, and agreement seen in Jane's emerald eyes, he nods to his father. "We'll divert the Normandy to Palaven." Spreading his mandibles into a smile, he huffs a laugh. "The crew would kill us if we didn't give a shore leave soon."


	73. Chapter 73

Jane

"Remind me again why we have so many damn baby clothes?" Groaning in frustration, Jane tosses a mismatched pair of socks and curses under her breath when she realizes she'll just have to pick them up again later. She snatches them up off the ground and shakes them off before putting them down in Cassia's crib instead, promising to put all the clothes back up after she finds what she needs. "I mean, damn, they can only wear one outfit at a time!"

Even from the nursery, she can hear Garrus laugh from where he's cleaning the twins up from their messy breakfast. "Because we both took it upon ourselves to get them clothes without knowing the other would do the same?"

She knows he doesn't see it, but she lets herself roll her eyes anyways. Of course he'd just state the obvious, their intent when they stocked up on supplies back on Illium being to focus entirely on giving Damocles and Cassia the necessities to feel at home in the warship. Still, the reminder of their good intentions just comes out as smug victory that he isn't the one digging through enough baby clothes to overfill the adult sized wardrobe. _Bastard_.

Making a wordless cheer at her find of the missing match to the sock she's been holding, Jane waves the article of clothing at her mate through the window of the nursery that looks out into the Loft. She sees more than hears him chuckle as he flicks his mandibles her way before returning to wiping Cassia's flailing hands of food. Damocles, on the other hand, seems content to wait so long as he can suck on his dirty fingers. Smiling, she watches how Garrus glances over before practically jumping in surprise and grabbing at their son's hands to quickly clean.

"If you wanted to eat that, why did you smear it all over yourself?" She laughs at her husband's completely dumbfounded look when Damocles merely laughs as Garrus has to catch the baby's hands before they can touch a face he still has to clean. "You're making this harder than it has to be, Damocles," he smock scolds as he gently holds the two tiny hands in one of his own and gently wipes away the food covering Damocles from cheeks to chin and everything in between.

On the other side, Cassia seems excited by the fact that daddy's attention has moved away from cleaning her own face and leans into him, smearing what remains of her breakfast against the sleeve of his tunic. Jane has to hide her snicker as she leaves the nursery with clothes in hand and hears her mate sigh in defeat. "Having fun?" His mandibles are tight as he throws her a chiding glare and she laughs, their twins joining in the hilarity with their own chirps and giggles. "My, my. Does the big, bad Archangel need _help_?"

Jane comes to the couch and sets the clothes far from the twin's grimy reach. Sitting down, she pulls Cassia into her lap and leans over to the table for a moist towelette. She hums to distract the baby as she gently wipes away the remains of breakfast from her daughter's face, letting Cassia grip her hands in stubborn effort to do it herself. "You know," she begins as Garrus finishes up cleaning their son. "This is a perfect opportunity for you to try on some of the clothes I bought you back on Illium."

"You mean I actually have to wear something besides armor?" Judging by his look, Jane would have thought she told him his paints were tattooed on wrong all this time. "Why would I ever do that?"

"Uh, how about because we're going to be seeing your family, at _our_ home? I highly doubt you need to wear armor in our own home."

He shrugs and takes the soiled towelette from her hands before tossing it and his own in the disposal beside their desk. "I still see no problem in walking around armored and ready for anything."

Snorting, she nudges him where he crouches before the couch and he grabs at her foot with a huff and amused flap of his mandible. "I can think of at least one problem with that." When he lifts a brow plate and stands, she leans back against the cushions to continue to hold eye contact. "It's harder to get you out of armor than it is civvies, and I can be quite impatient."

"I know," he says with a chuckle and leans down to press his forehead to hers as he starts to unbutton his now dirty tunic. She smirks and reaches a hand up to help, but he betrays her by stepping away with a clicking sound of admonishment. "Now, now. We're on a time schedule to meet my father at the docks."

"Tease." She would swat at him for being so damn smug if not for Cassia in her lap, but she'd rather hold her daughter still on her lap in preparation for an outfit change than get her moment to vent her frustration on her ass of a husband. "Don't take too long. You have to help me dress them." Shifting Cassia to sit on the couch beside her so she can start working on undressing her, Jane makes a soft 'oh' that gets her mate's attention.

She leaves Cassia to wait a moment before being changed and goes to the small wardrobe they've taken for themselves, searching through it for what she wants Garrus to wear. "I think you should match the rest of us. It'll be awesome."

"Is this that human style you like so much?" She nods and he rumbles in curiosity, looking over her shoulder as she digs around. "Wouldn't that look strange on turians?"

"Nah. I think it'll look awesome." Making a triumphant gasp, she pulls out a simple white shirt and leather jacket. She's still surprised she actually managed to find fifties style clothes designed to fit turian bodies - child and adult alike - as she had no idea it even existed. Sure, she had to scour the extranet for something that didn't exactly match and, instead, looked close enough, but after close to weeks looking, she found the perfect matches.

If Garrus didn't mind what he really wore outside of armor, then she was going to get him something _not_ the norm for his species. They've lived their whole life not being normal, so why should they start now?

"Here," she says as she hands over the shirt and jacket. "With this, I just might have a harder time stripping you than usual." Smirking at his examination of the outfit, she runs her fingertips over his bare chest. "Now, if only we can teach you how to dance like The King."

"The who?" He looks up and hums, tilting his head. "I thought you didn't have monarchs."

Snorting, she pats his chest and returns to the couch to undress a bouncing Damocles and curious Cassia who's found said clothes and is trying to figure out how they work. "Long story. I'll explain later."

He shrugs and starts to dress as Jane unbuttons the back of Cassia's sleep jumper, picking her up to pull it off her feet. Tossing it aside to pick up and clean later, Jane reaches for the small shorts that will stay hidden beneath her daughter's dress while still doing it's job of covering her ass. Once the white shorts are in place, she smiles and coos at a grinning Cassia. "What do you think? Wanna run around like this instead of wearing your dress?" Cassia giggles and looks down at herself. Chuckling, Jane leans forward and leaves noisy kisses against her cheek, making the little girl squeal and kick in her lap. "Easy, now," she jokes with a snort. "Don't want to break your mom now do you?"

The baby simply chirps as Damocles uses a hand on Jane's sleeping shirt to pull himself up and stand against her shoulder. Smiling, Jane squeezes his hand on her shoulder in silent promise to get to him next before grabbing the light lavender dress. She lifts Cassia into the dress and gently guides her arms through the sleeves before pulling it in place and starting on the few buttons just behind her neck. Last, she flattens out the wide, white collar across Cassia's shoulders before adjusting the purple bow in the front.

As she dresses their daughter, Garrus moves to join her in the task and takes up Damocles for his own changing. With one piece pajama off, Damocles is extra ornery as he struggles against the need for clothes and barks little yelps of disgruntled frustration as his defiance only gets his father to chuckle and nuzzle his forehead.

First on is the tiny white button up shirt with black and white argyle shorts and suspender straps attached and Jane smiles warmly at the tenderness her massive husband can show to his perfect little copy. The years of working with small parts pays off as Garrus buttons up the few buttons along the front of the outfit. Softly, he slides the suspenders over Damocles' shoulders and rumbles as he leans back and tilts his head to take a look at the result.

"What do you think?" Jane asks, actually worried he wouldn't like them or himself in the clothes she chose. It's certainly not something normally seen on turians, but she can't deny that the twins look absolutely adorable and her mate looks like sex on two grasshopper legs. "You don't have to suck up if you don't-"

"I like it," he says with a purr and finds her hand, linking their fingers as he pulls himself up onto the couch beside her. "It's different, sure, but it fits. You've always liked it, and our duties never let us actually enjoy the things we wanted. If this is what makes you happy, then we can change their entire wardrobe." Chuckling, he shrugs. "I'm fine with whatever is clean and at least matches, so I'll leave outfitting the family to you." She snorts at his nonchalance and leans over to kiss him, but he pulls away before she can even get some tongue action. Seeing her pout, he releases her hand, takes Cassia from her, and smirks as he nudges her to stand. "Now, I think it's time you get dressed too. Unless you really want to walk around Palaven in a shirt we only use so we don't deal with the twins completely naked."

"You're no fun." When she gets to the wardrobe, she starts to pull out dresses and sets them aside. While she loves the idea of having the chance to feel like a true woman, she doesn't want to have to explain just how big a chance that would create to what crew probably remain on the Normandy. 'Hey, Shepard, I see you aren't all badass Spectre all the time' isn't really something she wants hanging around when she's trying to be intimidating. It's bad enough being short enough to make eye contact with a volus that she doesn't need to give the crew _more_ ammunition.

Instead, she pulls out a pair of jeans and black spotted halter top. Leaving Garrus to put on the twin's shoes, she tosses aside her shirt and fetches some panties, the last thing she really wants to deal with going commando in jeans on a hot planet like Palaven. Sure, she won't be spending all that much time outside crisping up in the sun, but just the thought of that possibility is enough.

Ignoring the interested growl from across the room, she adjusts her underwear around her hips and grabs the pants to yank them on. He huffs, but doesn't say anything or argue against her sliding the halter over her shoulders, tying the neck strap, and tugging on parts to fit it around her torso and get it in place. She then sits on the bed and rolls her pants up a few times before sliding her feet into black flats and starting on her hair. Luckily, sleep curls are just as good - and just as unmanageable - as awake curls, so all she needs to do is wrap a bandana loosely around to keep it out of her face before finally being ready to go.

While she finds a small sort of joy in dressing up after all the shit they've been through making her feel all too much like a machine and distinctly _not_ human, let alone like a woman, she absolutely despises how damn long it takes. "About fucking time." She huffs at her look in the mirror and makes a none too flattering face, puffing out her cheeks and scowling. "I still look like shit."

"You're beautiful." He purrs and looks her up and down through the mirror. "Even when making that face."

Chuckling, she gives him the finger in her reflection before smiling. "You are such a shit with your constant bullshitting." Turning to face him, she walks over to the desk and leans a hip against it, simply taking him and their children in. "But thank you. It's only because of you that I feel this way. I don't feel like 'Commander Shepard' with you."

"Good." Setting the kids on the couch to look at their clothes in peace, he comes over and reaches for her small - _very small_ \- makeup box. "Mind if I?" he asks with a hum and raised brow. Her own brows raise in surprise, but she nods and he opens the small tin to pull out the scarce contents within.

She can count on her hands the number of times she's ever worn the shit, but something within her - perhaps the same that led her to buy a more feminine wardrobe in the first place - told her it was better to have it staring her down on the desk for when she ever wants it instead of not having the courage to own it. As he moves closer, she can't keep from watching the loving expression on his face as he swipes mascara over her lashes, a knuckle under her chin to lift her face into the light. Never would she have thought he'd be skilled at the intricate and soft touches of outlining her eyes with the pencils, but, then again, maybe she should have paid more attention to him when he used to tell stories of painting on his colony marks as a child before they were made permanent.

After shadowing her lids and swiping a bright red stain over her lips, Garrus sets down his tools and purrs. She can see his warm smile as he tilts her head first right, then left, before releasing her and motioning the mirror. "Take a look and tell me what you think."

She grabs the mirror from the desk as he cleans up and her eyes widen. He didn't just do a good job, he did a _fucking awesome_ job gussying her up. "Holy hot damn, Garrus." Tilting her face to and fro, she hums to try and not make that whistle of awe that always manages to make him cringe. "And here I thought you just knew how to paint colony markings."

He laughs and kisses her temple. "Sorry to disappoint."

"Hell, you did some grand fucking work. Hell, I might just be presentable now."

His arm wraps around her as he looks at her through the mirror. "You could be covered in soot, blood, and mud and you'd still be 'presentable'." She snorts and smacks the back of her hand against his chest with an eye roll, getting a chuckle in response. "Come on. My father sent a message that he's on his way while you were changing."

She breathes heavily, building her courage to go out like this for the first time in front of his family. Not to mention the multitude of waiting turians in the crowds around the docks. Would the sight of two well dressed battleworn 'heroes' ignite anger when so many blame them of not doing enough? They already have so much hate aimed towards them that she wonders if the fact that they seem to have lives outside of war may only feed the fire.

"Fuck it," she says more to herself than anyone else in the room. She squares her shoulders and takes her mate's hand, pulling him to the couch only to release his hand to pick up their daughter and hand her to him. "You hold her and I'll get Damocles? We'll hide their fingers while we walk through the crowd."

He nods and shifts Cassia against his chest, leaning down one last time to press his forehead to hers as if he could read her mind and wants to offer his own support. Knowing him and their lives, he probably does, and it's just one more thing she's damn sure made her such a sickly sweet sucker for him from the start. Motioning with her chin towards the door in question to go, she lets him lead the way and grab the travel bag for the kids on the way out.


	74. Chapter 74

Garrus

He is somewhat proud to see that his people haven't seen to caught the insanity flooding the rest of the galaxy as they step out of the Normandy's airlock. There is still a massive number of turians crowded around the docking yard, but they seem to understand the authority of the guards and their physical barricades and haven't begun to show signs that they'd swarm said barriers at any minute. Now, if they will _eventually_ do it remains to be seen.

With that thought ever present in his mind, Garrus holds his child close with one hand and his mate's hand tightly with the other. He won't let anything happen to them at the hands of his own kind, not when he knows the damage how turians built for violence can do when they don't hold back. While part of him trusts the people of Palaven to have enough control not to become physical in order to show whatever disagreement his and his mate's actions they have, he doesn't want to be unprepared should a spark ignite the flame.

From the steps of the Normandy's dock, he is able to see his father waiting at a guarded shuttle. A pair of armed soldiers approach as soon as their feet touch soil and salute him, and he almost questions them before realization cuts through the confusion like heated steel. Officially, he still holds a position of power and Victus must have not relieved him of it yet. Trilling in surprise and catching Jane's attention, he gives a responding salute. "At ease."

When he looks at her, Jane's brows are practically in her hairline and an impressed smirk makes her red lipstick shine in the sun. He chooses to ignore her silent questioning and, instead, follows the armed escort and, while the crowd is loud, there isn't one specific tone of emotions that come through the extreme noise. He figures the incomprehensible roar of the crowd is better than the distinct insults, demands, and accusations they've been receiving everywhere else. Hell, if he had the desire to, he could even fool himself into thinking the masses were here to welcome them home instead of feed their curiosity.

"Praetor Vakarian! Commander Shepard!" Even here, reporters want their attentions as they bounce on their toes for a better perspective and chance to catch his or Jane's eye. Instead, he sighs and shakes his head in exasperation as he lets Jane go to soothe their worried daughter who's taken to whimpering and sniffling in his arms. "Praetor, sir!" As they approach their shuttle and his father, some of the reporters muscle through and try to press against the soldiers blocking their paths. "The turian people have questions, Commander!"

One of their escorts stops a rushing woman with a firm hand on her chest and low growl of warning. "Ma'am. The Praetor and Commander have no time to answer questions. Get back behind the barricades."

"But-"

"Lieutenant," he calls, another soldier coming from where he stands beside the shuttle. " _Escort_ this woman back to her proper place." When the woman is sufficiently manhandled back into position with the rest of the subdued reporters, Garrus hums and nods in thanks for handling the situation and the man nods sternly. Opinions on them aside, at least the soldiers around them seem to understand duty comes before their personal grievances.

Garrus' father comes to them once the reporters' intrusion is dealt with, a proud look in his eyes that Garrus can't really see cause for. He can't really ask, though, and his confused rumble of question goes unheard as his father turns to Jane, flicking his mandibles and purring soothingly as he reaches out to a nervous Damocles. The young child, frightened and uncomfortable, burrows closer to his mother's comforting warmth and Garrus' father lays a hand on Jane's shoulder to soothe her frown.

"It seems he still doesn't like crowds." She raises a brow as he then turns to caress a nervous, but welcoming Cassis on the back. "Damocles had a harder time in the refugee camps than his sister, I believe."

"Seems like you're like your daddy," Jane says with a smile to their son, kissing his forehead. "But we're going to need to have a talk if you start locking yourself in the Battery for hours on end."

Garrus hums in mock irritation at her jab and gently eases Cassia into his father's hands. Surprise flashes over the older Vakarian's features at being the one offered a chance to soothe and be closer to his granddaughter, but he collects himself with that Titus-esque square of his shoulders. When he takes her, he rumbles in wordless thanks and Garrus flicks his mandibles in a smile and gives the slightest nod. He then turns his attention to Jane and helps her carry the duffle of their few overnight things.

There's no idea how long they'll get the chance to be on Palaven, but they plan to finally wear something not pertaining to armor or uniforms, no he let her have the chance to pack their things. For just these few days, they can pretend to be a normal family visiting his homeworld for a get away from work. He just won't remind himself what that work happens to be.

His father is the first to climb into the shuttle, taking a seat and strapping himself in with help from one of the flight crew - most likely the co-pilot by their uniform. Once locked into his seat, Garrus helps Jane up the large step into the turian made shuttle before climbing in himself. When the co-pilot moves to him once down aiding his mate, he waves her off. "Luckily, I don't have a squirming baby in my lap to worry about."

She flicks her mandibles with a chuckle and he looks to his smiling mate as the flight officer returns to the cockpit and closes the hatch. As the shuttle begins to rise, he lays a hand on Jane's thigh and leans over first to kiss her cheek, then nuzzle Damocles with with a soothing purr. The baby calms a bit under the attention, and Garrus relaxes at the idea of the twins actually being able to enjoy their father's homeworld even if it's still scarred from the war and they are still so young.

Chuckling, Jane pats his hand on her leg before looking to his father. "How is Palaven's rebuilding going?"

He hums as he lets Cassia grip and tug on his ungloved hands - Palaven and turian colonies being the only places where ungloved talons are not considered taboo without the massive amount of other species to complain. Reaching towards one of the video consoles for the shuttle, his father activates the outer cameras to throw up an image of the war torn capital. "We are slowly rebuilding, but the Primarch is doing an exemplary job of dividing attentions between the physical rebuilding of our homes and the reconstruction of governing bodies."

"Not too easy to do that. Turians may be the only ones not too focused on stupid galactic ass kissing and gossip." Garrus nods in agreement, his mind not completely in the conversation as he looks over what used to be Cipritine.

The capital, even damaged as it is, still holds the familiar shape he remembered having to visit nearly every day during the six months trying to prepare his people for the Reapers. The times in his childhood when he would travel to the city are not as vivid, but even then he was taught and understood the structure of Cipritine.

Set in the more temperate environment of Palaven, tropical forests surrounded three sides of the circular city. Within the very center was the towering Capital building that stood at the central point of a six pointed star, each arm of said star a defensive tower. Smaller - yet still massive - towers divided the city into districts where buildings were tightly aligned so that enemy forces could not fly below the anti-aircraft guns set along the district borders. The streets below were all set into a grid of spiraling paths intersected by others branching out from the central courtyard that enclosed the base of the Capital building.

His people were beginning to rebuild from the inside out, starting at the central tower of government and, then, dividing the effort between rebuilding infrastructure and tall living complexes. Though trampled by Reapers, the factories still seemed usable as smoke billowed out of the stacks, telling of how Cipritine was reaching out across its duties to provide for its people, both in supplies and image of what they can accomplish in bringing Palaven back to life.

He's sure by the quiet that has overcome the shuttle that his father and wife have taken to gazing on the same sight. Part of him wonders if there will ever be a time he could bring his family to a reborn Cipritine so he could show them the bustling life that existed down below on the streets, beneath the overhanging protection of the towers. What would the twins think of the small parks that littered the Domicilium District where families would often spend the sunny afternoons letting their children play among the shades and artificial ponds? Would Jane enjoy exploring the shops in the Tabernae District and find amusement in what his people thought levo species would really spend money on? Would he find his family a home within Cipritine, or outside it?

Humming in thought, Garrus leans closer to the vidscreen as the shuttle begins to travel outside of the organization forced within the land and into the more open and appealing tropical hills to the northeast. Here, there were homes built into the sides of terraced hills in a still unitarian manner, but there was less of a feeling of cold metal and stone and more a natural melding into the land. Trees were still well kept and small gardens existed at the base of each home cut into the side of the steep hills where the flora had become tamed, but there was still a wild feeling to the homes the Reapers paid little mind to.

As they slow, he motions Jane to look at what must be 'their home'. The only visible sign that a home exists within the hillside is an steeply angled roof, massive window fronts cut into the slope to provide a view out over the hills and towards the towers of Cipritine on the second floor and an addition of front doors leading out to the small, quaint porch. Beside it, on each side, is a small space of privacy and landscaping before the next house and, looking at the peace of this small neighborhood, it's easy to forgot that a city lies in ruins just on the horizon.

"It's so nice." He looks to his smiling mate and she hugs Damocles close, pointing for him to look at the screen. "Don't you agree, little man?"

Garrus feels a sense of relief that the home isn't as he had feared and a massive, presumptuous complex of useless rooms and wings that they'd never use. If not for the twins, he would have offered that sort of property to refugees as a way to get out of the camps or off the streets, but he's more than overjoyed to see that the house looks, at most, to be made for a small family of four. Besides that, he's also happy he doesn't have to fight his or his mate's guilt when all they really want is some time alone. _Is that too much to ask of the galaxy? Truth? Yes, yes it always is, but, damn it, we will enjoy what time we have before something drags us away._

Suddenly, Jane begins to chuckle as the shuttle lowers towards the clear path leading up to the porch. "At least it's not what I was thinking when you said it was in a hill." Snorting, she unbuckles and tucks Damcoles against her chest. "I was almost imagining a hobbit hole."

"A what?"

Garrus chuckles at his father's absolutely lost look and shakes his head. "Don't ask. Even I don't believe what half she says is even understood by humans."

She blows a dismissive breath between her lips, the sound making Damocles laugh and chirp. "Please, we are so watching those movies while we're here. But only the classics, the remakes sucked balls."

"Fuk?"

"No, I said 'suck', not 'fuck,' Damocles."

Garrus never imagined his father's eyes could widen even more and they not fall out, and his trill hits high enough that Cassia looks to him in confusion. Unable to help himself, he laughs at the ridiculous situation and pats his dad on the shoulder as he stands to open the hatch for his wife. "They're catching on to her bad habits."

"I'd say so," his father agrees, tone still shocked and mandibles flapping wildly. "Is that a human thing? To teach them swears before anything else?"

"More like a Jane thing."

"Hey! They know how to say 'mom' and 'dad'!" She glares back at Garrus and he laughs again. "Quit making me look back in front of your dad."

Laugh dying into a chuckle as he helps her down onto solid ground, he purrs in innocence. "If he doesn't know you by now, me saying something won't convince him."

"I _did_ have you both living with me." Garrus nods in agreement to his father as he helps him out as well. "And, believe me, your peculiar language wasn't the worst of what I had to put up with you two." Shaking his head, he grumbles something about 'juveniles' and Jane throws Garrus a knowing smirk.

"There you are!" The high, near shriek of his sister makes him hit the ground harder than usual because of the ring in his artificial ear. Even after all the years getting used to her enthusiastic way of losing control of her higher ranged vocals, Sol always manages to surprise him. "I've been waiting _for_ ever!"

"Solana," his father begins as she all but snatches Cassia out of his hands with a shrill coo. "We are only half an hour late."

She glares at Garrus and he lifts a brow, saying, "What? Don't blame me."

"Of course I blame you. Jane is innocent." She smirks at Jane's laugh and agreeing nod.

"I always knew I loved you, Sol." Patting him playfully on the ass, his mate offers a much calmer Damocles to his father and Garrus purrs at the light of tenderness in his father's pale eyes. "Now, where's food? I'm starving!"

Looking out over the hillside as the shuttle leaves, Garrus rumbles in thought at the possibilities this place brings to mind. Sure, he and Jane may never completely calm down, being soldiers too ingrained, but he can see himself coming home after a stint of battle to a nice, private place like this. Who knows, maybe he'll follow his father's nudgings and see if Victus needs him, even as much as Garrus despises politics.


	75. Chapter 75

Jane

The past ten days have meant more to Jane and her family the months spent healing and growing used to their new limbs after the war. The universe could take her legs all over again if she could spend the rest of her life like this, wasting hours watching their children grow with every passing day, but she knows that will never come to pass. Not only would the galaxy be unable to keep its shit together without her and Garrus, but there's just something that tells her of how neither of them will live a life of domesticity without wanting to hear the roar of gunfire in their ears.

All their lives - she since she was eighteen and him for a good portion of his life since fifteen - have been spent in the military or some kind of service. Sure, his days in C-Sec were calmer than the days aboard the Normandy, but, even then, he was craving more. She could see it in the way he seemed ready to jump at the very opportunity for some kind - _any kind_ \- of action. As upsetting as the thought is, it provides the very thing that they've been denied for years, familiarity.

She wishes they could change and no longer live with the thirst for battle, but she can no more control the setting of the sun than change something so ingrained.

Still, she can't deny the relief of actually having the _choice_ to decide.

It really is a beautiful home, too, with a large, open living room and kitchen, only a small counter and matching stools breaking up the open floor. The furniture was either pristine from the first family or replaced by her mate's parents, but, whoever it was, definitely knew how well a soft white would accent the dark wood floors and warm greens of the hills under the bright Palaven sun. Upstairs, even the three bedrooms - master, embarrassingly given to the couple only expected to stay for a short time, and two guest rooms his father and sister use - have a wall made entirely of crystal clear glass panes. Garrus and Jane both spent the entire first night staring at the stars of the Apien Crest instead of shuttering them for the privacy of sleep.

Beautiful as it was, she could just sense the anxiety over the 'lack of defenses' radiating off her husband in heavy waves. After he spent hours modifying Anderson's - and she still likes to think the man wasn't forced to hand it over due to the Alliance - apartment, she's pretty damn sure Garrus has already begun planning. Hell, if protecting his family is what makes Garrus happy and comfortable in a home they can call their own, then she would never think of denying him.

Mind drifting to the sight of the sun glistening off the far off towers of Cipritine, Jane doesn't realize the conversation between the Vakarian family has shifted to her until she hears a sound come from Solana that sounds awfully familiar and feels her mate's hand on her thigh. She blinks away her confusion and smiles up at them, seeing a knowing smirk on Garrus' face and a mandible flick similar to an human eye roll from Solana.

"Spirits, what am I going to do with you two?" Chuckling, she motions Jane to come over to join her in the kitchen before opening the fridge to dig through. "Here I am trying to tell some grand story and you're light years away."

"Looks like even Jane gets bored with your stories." Garrus hums and bounces Cassia on his lap - Damocles on his father's - as Jane caresses their daughter's head before heading to see what Sol needs.

Sol makes a mocking noise of her brother and waves a hand full of something that looks like yellow lettuce in his direction. Titus merely shakes his head at the subvocal teasing going back and forth between the siblings that Jane can't understand, and she can't help but lean against the counter and just watch. It's been a long time since she's seen her husband so at peace, so relaxed, and she's can't seem to get over how beautiful he looks in these moments, with nothing but a child in his arms and a smile on his face. When he looks to her, she gives him a warm smile and, at first, he flutters his mandibles in confusion before smiling back.

Garrus turns to speak to his father, but Jane doesn't catch what he says when Sol hands her a container with some good weight to it. She raises a brow as she looks down to it, turning it around in her hands and hearing the wet flop of something dark within. "What's this?"

"I'm going to teach you something to cook for the twins." As her sister-in-law purrs, Jane opens the container and finds small cubes of a purplish meat inside. "I don't know much, but I'm sure this will be better than pre-made food." She gives Garrus a look. "Or MREs."

"Why are you giving me that look?" He trills, affronted. "I can cook… a bit."

Sol hums with an unconvinced nod and offers Jane a knife, motioning the plastic cutting board laid out beneath what looks like some sort of dextro thin-sliced meats. "The slop you make should be considered a weapon."

"Alright, then show me what _your_ cooking tastes like."

Snorting, Sol flicks her mandibles in a smirk. "Who said anything about cooking for you? This is for the twins," she adds with a chuckle and starts to open a bag of thin grain to rinse under the faucet. "Jane, just cut this and this into strips." Pointing first to the lettuce-like vegetable and some purple peppers, Sol then walks - her stride still holding a hint of limp from her bad break during the war - to grab a pan.

Glancing up from her cutting at the sound of movement, Jane catches her mate and his father leaving the two women to cook as they take the children and begin to walk the large open room. From the looks of Garrus' one-handed pointing and open scouring of the area, she can guess he's drowning his father in ideas for altering the house to suit even the best of vigilantes and his loved ones.

The sight of Garrus finally seeming to have something to teach his father makes her proud and truly aware of how much he has grown into himself since they met. Sure, he was a massive aid to his people as a Praetor, but she knows he was always at a point of still feeling like he had yet to prove anything good came from his life on Omega. He grew as a warrior in those hard years alone and mourning her death and, though the thought of doing that to him hurts, a part of her knows it's something he needed. She could tell him about his skills until she turned blue before Omega, but he would never have known he could do all the things he accomplished until he actually lived them.

"You're good for him, you know."

Jane blinks, realizing she was staring and not necessarily doing her duty of cooking, and looks to Solana. "What?"

Sol tilts her chin over towards the two males and smiles as she pours some kind of oil in the pan, then some water and the grain. "My brother. You're good for him." Purring, she turns on the stove and moves to lean a hip on the counter. "I don't know where he - where _we_ \- would be without you in Garrus' life." She frowns with a rumble, looking to the marbled tiles of the kitchen floor. "Probably dead, to tell the truth."

"I doubt-"

"Now don't give me that," her turian sister interrupts with a raised hand. "Garrus would probably have stuck with C-Sec, getting angrier by the day over his job, and… and." Trilling softly, she shakes her head. Jane doesn't need to hear the rest. She knows what would have happened if her mate had stayed on the Citadel during the entire shitstorm that was the Reapers.

He'd have died. If not when Sovereign took over the station, then when the Reapers finally attacked it to keep it from the combined galactic forces. That's _if_ she even followed the same path, which - with a kind of certainly - wouldn't have happened. Hell, she may never have made it through training to become a N-7 if not for someone urging her forward as Garrus had.

Hell, there wasn't even a good fate for his family given those horrendous circumstances.

"Yeah," Jane says breathlessly, the fear of the possible fact that - in many, many years - she may have to face a galaxy without him before the end sending a chill of worry through her. Being best to wash away those thoughts for another - hopefully far off - day, she clears her throat and tries to change the direction of her thoughts with a weak laugh. " Yeah. I'd be up shit creek without a paddle before long without him to steer me right."

"Where in the Spirits is a 'shit creek'?" Solana's eyelids flutter rapidly as she trills in confusion, and just the sight of a completely flabbergasted turian makes Jane's mood lift, a laugh bubbling from her mouth. "Please tell me it isn't actually made of what I'm thinking."

Laughs even catching Garrus and his father's attention, Jane shakes her head at them in 'no worries' and 'go back to whatever the hell you're doing'. Her husband merely shrugs and turns back - obviously used to her antics - as her amusement fades into chuckles. Holding her aching stomach from the outcry, she smiles at her sister-in-law. "No, it's not really shit. And it's not really real. It's a human figure of speech to mean that you're in a bad situation and no way to fix it."

"Strange humans."

"I get that a lot," she agrees with a chuckle and motions that she's done cutting. "What next?"

"Next…" Sol opens the freezer unit and removes a small box, a guilty look spreading her mandibles and drawing down her brow plates when she turns back. "I'm afraid I don't know a thing about making food for a human - or anything levo, for that matter - so I bought you a meal from the import market by the docks. I promise it's better than rations."

Jane snorts and walks over to see the packaging, reading it quickly aloud. "Chicken Parmesan." She shrugs. "It's like a TV dinner. I'm cool with that."

Solana smiles with a soft rumble and nods. "Start the oven at ...a hundred and ninety-seven celsius?" She looks up to check that she read it right and Jane nods.

"Sounds about right." As Sol removes the plastic wrapping and searches for something to place in the oven, Jane sets it to heat up. Holding open the door, she gets a glance at the grain food and gives Sol a shrug. "Doesn't look half bad. What is it?" Then, she realizes anything that comes out of her sister's mouth will just go in one ear and out the other, she holds up a hand. "You know what? Nevermind. I'm sure I'll need you to write down whatever it is we're doing if you really want me to learn it."

Chuckling, she nods and sets a timer for Jane's meal. "I guess I can't expect you to learn by watching?"

"Nope."

Sol makes another turian eye-roll and points to a spoon for Jane to fetch. "I used to watch my mom cook all the time. Garrus was too busy getting into trouble by taking apart his new Omni-Tool or trying to get a hold of dad's guns, so he doesn't have any clue, but I remember a lot of her recipes." Smiling, she starts to stir the grains, waving a hand for Jane to come closer and take over. "She never actually had anything on paper unless it was something she was trying off the extranet, but even then she'd go off of the instructions and make up her own." She chuckles and starts to grab spices from the cabinets. "I remember one time she tried to make a dextro version of an asari meal." Jane hears a weird gag noise from Sol and has to chuckle at the twisted up expression on the woman's plates. "Spirits, I still taste it in my nightmares."

Jane barks a laugh and Sol joins in, the two laughing at that thought. Finally, when their amusement dies into chuckles, she makes a show of a dismissive shrug. "I'm sure it wasn't _so_ bad. I bet I've made worse." When Sol raises a brow, Jane smirks. "Try 'primordial ooze' kind of bad. Pretty sure I'm responsible for creating new lifeforms."

Solana laughs again, having to put her task of seasoning that strange meat aside to hold a hand to her belly and wave a hand in mercy. "Spirits be with you and Garrus in learning to cook _anything_."

Jane smiles at her sister, so at ease and happy in contrast to everything fucked up in their lives, but her own peace is broken when she catches movement outside. While the sight of passing shuttles as neighbors move between home and Cipritine is not uncommon, none of them have ever turned towards their own home as this one does. She just knows it's not a sign of anything good and sighs in disappointment at having their pleasant dinner plans interrupted. _Here comes someone to demand something from us_.

She first wipes her hands of any remains from their cooking and joins her husband in the living area just as the shuttle levels out with their porch. A glance to him shows that he's perhaps more annoyed than she is, but she figures he has every right to be. This place and turning it into a practical fortress is like his personal mission. She loves how protective his is, but perhaps the sight of a tightly coiled and ready to pounce turian isn't the best to greet their 'guests' with. Even more so when the hatch opens and, escorted by three soldiers, Primarch Victus steps out.

Despite the frustration, Jane can't help the smile at seeing the man wave away his guards as if they were cramping his style and Garrus, though still sighing in irritation, relaxes a fraction beside her. Guards cowed into staying put, Victus starts to make his way towards them, a cane in hand to help with a limp most likely from the war and a frown painted on his tired features.

She can't help but to feel sorry for the man because she knows full well the weight that lies on his shoulders. Knows it so well, that she couldn't keep herself from warning her very children of the guarantee of it being in their future in her son's very name. _You must always be prepared for the dangers of any kind of power, my children. For the Sword of Damocles forever hovers above our heads and I cannot find a way to free you of it._

"Here." Garrus turns to his father, a knowing look on his somber face, and shifts Cassia from his hip and onto Titus'. "Take them and stay with Sol. We'll take this outside." He nods and rumbles to calm the trilling babies that grab at their parents in want for attention, walking to join a confused and concerned Solana waiting just at the opening of the kitchen. "What the hell does he want." The words seem more a demand than question when Garrus voices his thoughts as Jane leads the way outside.

Instead of instantly ripping into the Primarch for disturbing them while they're trying to pretend to be just a normal family living up in the hills, Jane nods in greeting and waits to hear what the worn leader has to say. After all, he seems to be the only one to come to demand something that actually seems to regret the need. Hopefully her initial reservation will prove correct in the end once they hear him out.

"Shepard, Garrus," Victus greets, setting the mood with their names instead of titles. _So perhaps it won't be too bad_. Normally, they are only 'Shepard' and 'Garrus' when it's a friend and not a world leader. As her mate rumbles a stiff greeting and Jane relaxes against the small, still bare, planter, Victus frowns and looks off to the side, mandibles flicking in agitation. "I'm sorry to have to come to you like this."

"But you have something you want." Garrus crosses his arms, attitude cutting through the awkward tension, and Jane sighs, shaking her head in exasperation. Yet, Victus does not seem to take offense as so many others do when either of the Vakarians are short on time and caring. There is a bit of quiet as the two men stare at each other, gauging the other, before her mate sighs and drops his crossed arms. "After what you did to help me stay with Jane, that's a bit harsh," he admits with a rumble and rubs his right shoulder, where the cybernetics there still irritate him. "Least we can do is hear you out." He huffs a laugh and shakes his head. "After all, you did give us a while before coming here."

Humming, Victus nods and lays his hands on the head of his cane as golden eyes looking the two over, no doubt taking in their appearances and calculating their capabilities even now. "I've come to you to ask of allies, friends, instead of demand from subordinates." He exhales heavily and looks to the ground between them. "There are disturbing reports coming to my attention of ship disappearances and I fear the outcome of an already delicate situation should this get as far as the Council." Another deep sigh before he raises his head and returns his attention to the two of them. "The vessels in question were transporting krogan forces back to Tuchanka."

"Fuck." Jane draws out the vowel and leans her head back, closing her eyes.

"How long?"

"Since the beginning of the return transports." As Victus answers her mate's question, Jane drops her head and rubs her forehead at the implications. If this has been happening for this long - and _keeps_ happening - then there's no way the heretic geth can be to blame. "I don't want this to become mass hysteria and rekindle tensions with the krogan. I'd rather hear from Urdnot Wrex first before bringing this to the Council." Opening her eyes to look at the man in consideration, he nods in assurance. "This is why I came to you. I'd rather he be approached by friends worried for his people than a stranger looking for evidence to their guilt."

"Makes sense why you'd come to us." Garrus rumbles before snorting and looking down to her with a smirk. "Should have known this wouldn't last."

She smirks and lifts a brow. "This? I distinctly remember you promising me a tropical beach. This is only half that."

"I never do anything by half measures. I'll get you that beach," he promises with a smug growl and looks to Victus. "We know Wrex. This isn't his doing. It's good you came to us first, but is there anyone else who can spread this information to the Council?"

Sabotage of this peace between the two people is already stressed from past grudges could rip it apart and unleash and angry, no longer infertile, species on galaxy. Luckily, that seems to be the exact worry the Primarch has as he nods with a slight, sharp chirp. "Negative. I was given this information by a trusted General that has been collecting evidence before bringing it to my attention. We wanted to be sure this wasn't an isolated event and possibly result of pirates or mercenaries framing the krogan."

"Well, I'd rather do a job because someone asked and it be something clearly made for us than get bitched at to do something any bastard could pull off." She nods and glances her husband's way to catch his eyes and nod of agreement before smiling at Victus. "Now, why don't you shake off your entourage and join us for dinner?" Without waiting for the man's response, she takes her mate's hand and returns to their last night of domesticity.


	76. Chapter 76

Jane

The first rays of dawn peek through the half drawn shutters and throw a soft glow across the floor to coax Jane into wakefulness. Something about the natural warmth makes it difficult to truly pull herself from her slumber despite the fact that she's found herself awake and ready for duty long before this time on the Normandy. That, or perhaps it also has something to do with the comforting support of an arm under her head and the very solid turian at her back. A turian currently rubbing soothing circles over her hip bone with his thumb.

Stretching with a loud groan and satisfying pop of her spine, she smiles and wiggles closer to his body. "Been awake long?"

He hums and shifts to nuzzle her neck, metal arm wrapping around her torso to pull her ever closer. "Don't know. Before the sun came up." As she yawns, Garrus takes the chance to cup her breast gently.

She chokes on her yawn from the surprise and joins in his chuckle once she catches her breath. "You did that on purpose."

"Guilty." She snorts at his smug agreement and nips her neck, squeezing her breast in his hand. "Couldn't help myself," he whispers, his voice more tender and playful than she feels this early in the morning. "How'd you sleep?"

"Sleep is not really what's on my mind with you doing that." Smiling, she rolls over in his arms and caresses his cheek. "You know," she says, running her fingertips over his brow plate. "It's still so strange seeing you without that damn visor out on the field. I kinda like it this way."

He grunts and flicks his mandible as he shrugs. "That's good because I doubt I'd be able to find it if you wanted me to wear it again." She rolls her eyes, ignoring his victorious smirk, and figures she'd let him have that one. She _did_ set herself up for it, after all.

"Smart ass." Despite her words, she smiles and scoots closer to him to duck her head under his chin and leave soft kisses along his throat. "Why do I ever put up with you?"

"My stunning good looks. My winning personality." He shrugs and slides his hand to her waist to splay across the entirety of her lower back. "Take your pick."

His warm purr vibrates against her chest through his plates ignites a flush over her pale skin, and she runs her hand along his pectoral plates. Chuckling, she shakes her head and drops her hand lower to ghost the backs of her fingers against his scarred belly, grinning at the slight jump in his abdominal muscles. "I can think of something else that won me over."

"Who wouldn't fall for me then?" She scolds him with a backhanded swat on his belly and he chuckles, moving to trail the very tips of his artificial talons along her spine to make her arch into the sensation. "Don't suppose we'd be lucky enough to have Sol and dad care for the twins until we're done?"

His low, rumbling growl speaks of just what he wants to get _done_ and she closes her eyes, letting the sound roll over her. Nodding, she lifts her head and answers him with a kiss, first lips against his plates before her tongue flickers against the sharp cut of his mouth. Without hesitation, he opens for her and his own, rough, slender tongue is curling against her own with a gentleness that only she exists without her battle hardened and scarred turian husband.

Heat licks at her skin in a way no blanket wrapped around them can cause and she mumbles nonsensically into his mouth when his hand leaves her back to slide into the curls of her hair, the chill from the metal of his palm sending shivers to dance with the warmth building. Her mind reels with the feeling of him against her tongue - moving and sliding in ways her own can never move - his hand on her scalp, and own body against her hands as she explores him with the fascination of new lovers. Even after years and countless times together, his touch, taste, and deep voice are just as new to her as the first time, igniting the same fire that will burn forever between them.

She moans when she hears his vocals pitch lower with his own arousal and slides her hands to tightly grip his waist as she sucks on his tongue. That pulls his own dual toned moan from his throat, but, surprisingly, he pulls back and makes a slight tsk, though it doesn't have quite the convincing tone with that hunger in his eyes staring back at her. "Patience." Smiling, he presses his forehead to hers and softly rubs against her. "We have all morning before we have to go back."

"Patience?" She snorts and tilts her head to kiss along his scarred mandible, trailing back to his ear he so politely offers when he lifts his face into her efforts. "I don't do patience," she whispers huskily in his ear and delights in the low sigh that falls from his mouth.

Just when she thinks she's won, he leans back and nips her lips. Growling as he cups her breast, he circles a thumb around her nipple, making her gasp, and chuckles darkly in victory as he whispers back. "You will with me."

"Damn… sniper." Her insult towards his infuriating ability to drag out any task he puts himself to - from battlefield to bed - doesn't seem to gain her even a huff as he claims her mouth with his own, adding to the torture of his voice, hand on her breast, and newly shifted hand beneath her moving to cup her head. She moans against him, sound slightly muffled from his flexible tongue curling against her own, and arches into his touch. Her hands grip uselessly against his plated chest as all thought of his own sweet spots leaves her mind under his efforts and resolves to just letting him take control. For now.

Need blossoms low in her belly and thought only returns when she has to pull back to take deep gasps for breath. Garrus doesn't pause with, moving to duck his head and run that evil tongue along her sensitive neck, but enough of her thinking returns to remind her of her own ammunition in this situation. Sliding one hand to scratch nails over his neck - and smirking in victory at the hitch in his breath against her flushed skin - she wedges a hand between them and rubs her fingers against his already exposed sheath, feeling the heat and bulge of his growing erection.

Jane gets the reaction she wants when he growls and nips at her nipple, dropping his hand from her chest and down until it stops at the apex of her thighs. Oh how sweet the spark of electricity that shoots up her spine when the pad of his - slightly warmer thanks to his touches to her skin - artificial finger circles her clit. She groans as she grows slick beneath his caresses and presses closer to him, hand frantically stroking his sheath to draw him the rest of the way out. Smirking as she hears him snarl in lust against her chest, she cups her hand as he immediately slides out, wet and hard in want.

"Now who's impatient?" The breathless air to her voice takes away from most of the joke, but she gets a hard flick against her clit in reprimand that sends her jumping at the sudden burst of pleasure. "Fuck…"

His chuckle is so heavy, laden with his vocals, but he doesn't tease her as he continues to use his hand against her and she feels her inner walls twitch with each pass, quivering in desire for the heavy heat in her hand. Tilting his head up, he pulls her into a deep kiss with his open hand and slides his tongue against hers hungrily, belying the lazy circles against her folds. Unable to fight against the fire in her belly, she strokes him with a firm grip and shifts away when his fingers stutter against her as he growls.

Using this second of control over the situation, Jane releases him and uses both hands to gently push against his shoulders, guiding him to his back. He doesn't struggle against her, but his hands aren't idle as he grips her hips and pulls her up and over him, sliding down her thighs as she straddles him. She grinds against his wet length and smirks at his soft moan and uncontrollable twitch of his hips between her legs.

Her teasing is short lived as he opens his eyes and her breath catches at the sight of a very unique form of desire, of hunger dancing with awe. It's an emotion she can't understand the reasoning of when directed to her, but it's one she reflects back as she runs her hands over his chest and up to his scarred cowl. Eyes never leaving his, she lifts her hips to feel his tip glide through their combined arousals and pauses just as she hovers over him. Time seems to stop as their breathing and heartbeats become one.

Jane lowers her hips and hears him sigh - perhaps releases one of her own - as she feels his larger size stretch her channel, shaping her to him in a way that nature never intended but that she could never imagine living without. When their hips meet, their bodies joined in and her body fuller than with any other in her life with both flesh and emotion for this wonderful man, she looks down to him and smiles. Running her hands up over his cowl to his face, she gently pulls him to sit up.

Garrus purrs as he nuzzles her forehead, then presses their mismatched mouths together. His vocals vibrate against her tongue and chest as she slowly starts to move, rising to her knees before bringing them back together. Their differing sounds of shared pleasure tangle and pass between her lips and his plates as they seem to focus more on the proximity, the touch and sharing of breath - of life - than tasting the other. He helps guide her with a grip on her leg and cupped hand behind her head and starts to caress his scars and scrapes against his facial plates as she holds him close.

Making love in the growing light of dawn, Jane starts to feel her thighs tense and spine coil as sensation radiates from his length inside her. Each ridge and pass over the bulge just under his head is like a shot from a rifle, fanning the burning flame within her lower belly as she pants and loses control of her shaking hands and greedy mouth. Her tongue licks and lips suckle against his mandibles, mouth, and scars as soft whines puff against his plated features. He doesn't seem to mind the messiness of her kisses as he growls and tilts his head up for her needy nips and licks against his neck, hand in her hair holding her close.

With a jerk of his hips, he finally sets her on fire and her back bows as a soft cry falls from her lips. Her mate's vocals are wild and full of want as he cups her ass and urges her to keep moving and she tries, pushes her twitching and boneless hips to keep riding him. Thankfully, she only has to call on her rebelling muscles for a few falls before he groans and holds her down, filling her with his hot seed and swelling knot.

The pressure against her front wall pulls out a wanton moan from her lips and he kisses her, quieting her as if they could have any possible interlopers. The pulses of his length within her as he pumps into her pulls a smaller, comforting orgasm from her and, finally, as the pulses of pleasure subside, she can relax against him.

Sweaty and panting, Jane can do nothing but lay against his chest, arms loosely hugging him as far as she can reach. Parting will bring about the true start of the day, of duty to a galaxy that can't seem to leave them well enough alone, but she will take the time together in the aftermath of a worryless stint of nothing but the simple life of being parents. Of being actual people and not soldiers forever seeking orders.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The wonderful artwork that is with this chapter was done by the lovely and great [BlastedKing](https://blastedking.tumblr.com/post/154472407153/shakarian-commissioned-by-squigglysquid).


	77. Chapter 77

Garrus

"I still don't know why you have to go." Sol huffs from her seat in the shuttle and looks to Cassia in her lap. "You don't want to leave, do you?" The baby in her lap chirps and smiles, reaching up to grope at the sweeping blue lines over her aunt's cheeks. Sol chuckles, and most of her frustrations ease as she ducks her head to offer a better angle.

"Trust me, it's not like we _want_ to travel across the galaxy when I could be sleeping while you take care of those little monsters." Jane sighs and leans her head back against the wall of the shuttle, crossing her arms. "But doing this before it gets out and causes a shitstorm trumps me being lazy."

"At least tell me you'll come back after you deal with this?"

"Sol…"

Garrus hums at his father's urgings to drop the subject in order to assure that it's alright to be upset. He has his own thoughts concerning their premature end to this undetermined amount of leave here on Palaven, but it does them no good to dwell on it. At least, he figures, this will give them a chance to see Wrex, Grunt, and Bakara again. Perhaps even get a glimpse of just how far the krogans' efforts to repair Tuchanka are coming.

Who knows, hearing from two Spectres of the truthfulness to the focus on rebuilding and growth over war may sway the galaxy's view on the krogan. It's high unlikely, though, as Jane and Garrus' motives always come into question and their connection to the krogan leader could bring about claims of lies and coverups.

"We'll see about returning," he says, shaking his head when his younger sister frowns and explains. "If we can manage to get everyone off our backs long enough for more rest, I promised Jane a tropical beach." Chuckling, he turns to her and smiles. "And I've never been accused of not fulfilling my promises."

Jane smiles back and nods, taking his hand and linking their fingers in that odd way they've grown so used to. He catches a warm purr from his sister as he presses his forehead to his wife's and notices how his father turns his attention to Damocles in his lap, obviously still too good a turian to be comfortable with public displays of affection. While now understanding of the relationship between turian and human, Garrus knows his father is too set in his ways to be comfortable with gestures so out of the comfort zone of their society.

Or, perhaps it's more a turn away from something too painful to watch after the loss of his own mate. That is something Garrus knows all too well, the agony of watching something he once had and lost to be left behind with a gaping hole.

As the shuttle begins to slow, his sister frowns and pulls Cassia into a possessive hug. The infant doesn't understand, but enjoys the attention, none the less, trilling and flapping her mandibles in excitement. Her obliviousness only seems to disappoint her aunt as Sol dips her head against Cassia's soft clothes before pulling away with a false smile. "You be a good girl, okay? No craziness like your brother."

While Cassia merely responds with babbles and attempts at words, Garrus stands to open the hatch. With his children in his family's hands and the advantage of his wife being just a bit slower than he is getting out of the turian-made shuttle harness, he is able to take his preferred place at the threshold of the shuttle's open hatch. He can both scan the rowdy - though not yet violent - crowd for anything suspicious as well as be that barrier between his loved ones and danger. It's only now that he realizes how idiotic the idea to leave behind their armor in expectation of Palaven being a more hospitable home is should they come face to face with another merc attack like on Thessia.

"Do you see anything?" His dad rumbles from beside him, his hands empty and Damocles now in Sol's hands while Cassia clings to her mother. At first, Garrus doesn't pay any attention to his father, eyes narrowed and mandibles clenched as he curses the lack of his visor's enhanced diagnostics and the way it would have made sizing up the masses for hostiles. "Garrus." The sternness - something he remembers well from his youth - in his father's voice finally draws his attention and Garrus tilts his head just slightly towards the command without taking his eyes from the strangers only held at bay by the armed soldiers. "Be at ease, son. No one would have gotten past the securities they've set up here."

"You'd be surprised-"

"Alright!" Jane grins as she approaches with a hop to her step in order to bounce Cassia on her hip, making their daughter laugh and purr. "Get your ass out of the way, Vakarians. I'm burning up in this Palaven heat." Her smile only widens with Garrus glances her way with a scolding look and turns to their daughter. "Tell daddy, 'Move it! I wanna go see all the crazies on the Normandy!'"

"Da, da," Cassia merely says, holding out her hands to Garrus and he gives the crowd one more look before granting their armed escort the benefit of the doubt to protect them and returns to his family. He picks up and overjoyed infant and can't help the warm smile at her happiness and repeated 'da's and chirps.

"She's just like you." Garrus smirks at his sister and rumbles in tease. "Although, she is much cuter when she squirms." Sol narrows her eyes with a click of her tongue and kicks at him. He chuckles as he steps away and holds Cassia at a distance from her as if his sister could misaim her next attack. "Easy with the baby."

At that, Jane plucks Cassia from his hands with an innocent, "Oh! You wanna see paw-paw now?" and hands their daughter over to Garrus' father who is apparently dubbed 'paw-paw' - whatever that means.

"Now where are your defenses?" Sol kicks right above his boot, on the soft spot below his spur on his calf - something he can easily dodge, but a move that doesn't do much pain beyond a slight bump.

"Now, now, children," Jane says jovially as she hops from the shuttle and spins to grin at them, hands on her hip in mock reprimand. "Let's not give the twins bad examples at settling their differences."

Stepping out of the shuttle himself, Cassia tucked against his chest to keep her from being frightened by the noise and amount of people in the crowd, his father chuckles. "Good luck." Jane laughs and lays a hand on his shoulder, leaving the two adult siblings to share a look of complete disagreement over their father's and Jane's observations.

"Joke all you want," he says as he motions Sol to step down before him before grabbing the small duffle of their few things and following. "But I'll remember how I'm a 'bad example' when it's time to change and feed them."

His wife barks a laugh as she walks, leading the way as she would a ground mission and he's pretty sure she doesn't even realize it. Considering his own position at the back of the group with a continuous eye on the crowd, he sees that even he fails victim to the ingrained formation they've developed. It's saved them in many life threatening situations, so it must not be all that bad, and he doesn't think it'll ever fade. He will always have her six as she takes the lead and charges forward.

They aren't assaulted by greedy reporters as they cut through the masses of onlookers and climb up onto the docking platform, but they are greeted by more than the usual crew that bustles around planetside docked ships in preparation for departure. Standing tall is the imposing figure of Primarch Victus, ever the commanding general despite the glistening black cane and Primarch's robes. When their eyes catch his, he nods in greeting and awaits their approach to his position at the foot of the Normandy's loading ramp.

"Vakarians," he greets, voice loud enough to be heard by the group, but below the range of spying cameras or recorders. "I was hoping to catch you before you left." His mandibles lower and relax as Cassia reaches out for him. Offering a finger of his hand for her to grip onto, then offering it to a now jealous Damocles, he wiggles it in their tiny hand before relaxing.

 _Seems their human ways have even convinced Victus of the wonders of touch._ Perhaps, after spending the evening sharing dinner and some wine with them may actually have helped show the Primarch how different humans can be. It's one thing to have an adult explain, but another to see a child act without any knowledge of what is right and expected of their species. _The galaxy could learn a lot about tolerance from two one year olds._

"Is this about… uh… our stuff?" Let it be known that Jane is not too adept at subtlety. When Victus chuckles softly and nods, she steps closer and lowers her voice. "Is there another problem?"

At that, the Primarch frowns slightly. "I'm coming to warn you that this matter is delicate. If Urdnot Wrex is unable to offer any insight on the matter and you cannot find the source of the disappearances, I can't continue to without this information. If you can't stop this, I can't keep word from the Council."

Garrus hums and nods, sighing in exasperation because he knows the situation Victus is in. Should he trust allies and friends at the risk of losing more people or go directly to the Council and possibly cause a war? "We'll get it done," he assures, looking at his people's leader with a determined thrum. "Don't get the other species involved just yet."

The Primarch nods and looks between him and his wife. "Thank you. The turian people - _I_ \- owe you a great debt."

Pausing in thought, Garrus steps forward before glancing to his family. "Why don't you head inside and spend some time with the twins before we have to disembark." His eyes meet Jane's and she nods, waving his father and sister to follow without a word of protest. When they are out of hearing range, Garrus looks to Victus and drops his voice, humming in seriousness. "There is something I know I will need." The man is quiet, gauging the situation, but he nods after a moment of locking gazes. "This life, going wherever the damn Council says? It has to stop. It _will_ stop. I need to know where you stand as the Primarch, as the leader of the turian people. Being a Spectre is for life, but, dammit, we have lived and lost enough for hundreds of lives and we deserve peace."

"And the Council aren't planning to relieve you." He nods to Victus' guess and the man looks to their people, mandibles slowly twitching. "Which is something they are not bound to do. They'd sooner deem you as criminals, rogues, than admit to discharging the 'galaxy's heroes'."

Garrus merely rumbles in agreement as he crosses his arms, cocks a hip, and narrows his eyes to study the man. This is a moment that can change their futures, can either damn them or provide a safety net. "The question is what will the Hierarchy do if we are deemed rogue Spectres? If the Council decides they'd rather have us out of the way than free of their command?"

Victus' eyes stare him done as he growls softly and says, "I don't give a damn what the Council thinks." Before Garrus can so much as twitch in surprise, the man waves his hand to stop any words of confusion. "The Council deeming you as rogues without proof is something I will not stand by. If you so choose, you have a place here, on Palaven and in the Hierarchy." He rumbles and drums his gloved talons on his cane head. "You know, you are only third in place for the Primacy. You're still a Praetor in official designation."

Garrus coughs a bit, still dumbfounded by realizing his tier in his people's government, and rubs the back of his head. "I...uh… I don't really think that'll be a possibility." When Victus raises a brow that seems to ask 'why not?' he sighs and shakes his head, dropping his hand. "I'm not good at politics. I kill things when they cause problems, not talk them into a compromise. I could never lead an _entire_ people to success when I can't even…" Closing his eyes and thanking the fact that Jane can't hear him, he hums at the cold truth in his words when he continues. "I can't lead when I don't even want to bother with people I have no attachment to. My place isn't with our people, it's with those I love, those I'm close to."

In youth, he always wanted to do what was right, to help people, but living the hard, cold years of his life without Jane and, once reunited, trying to keep her sane in a war has taught him that there is no way to truly help everyone. It is all a decision of _who_ to help and _how_ , not how to help everyone. Taught that in his youth, he never truly understood until faced with a decision of helping strangers or sacrificing for his family and close friends. Now, after the war, he is unable to revert back to his old ways when he and his own wife are granted the same care and respect.

With a solemn sigh, Victus returns his eyes to the surrounding crowd and dips his chin once. "I understand. Though I can't say I agree with you on not being able to lead, I can't force a man I consider a friend into a position even I was not intending to ever be seated in." When he looks back, Victus offers a reassuring flick of his mandibles. "Don't worry. This changes nothing. If you do not harm the turian people, then I have no obligation to follow Council orders to hunt you down. As for ever coming to Palaven?" He smirks and shrugs. "'I was not given any indication that the wanted Spectres were ever present on Palaven or I would have apprehended them'." Garrus chuckles as Victus lifts a hand from his cane and lays it on his shoulder, expression growing serious. "Your family will be safe here, but if you chose to return to Palaven, I can't promise there won't be some turians who would rather ally with the Council that the Hierarchy." As Garrus nods, the Primarch drops his hand and returns to grip his cane.

"You would allow me on your council even if I was deemed rogue?"

"You served Palaven and the Hierarchy with honor and dignity. There is already disagreement between the Hierarchy and Council concerning issues of resources allocation and rebuilding priorities. I don't respect Councilor Octavia Maximus. I think she's too busy playing politics and trying to aid the new Council in trying to control the non-Council species into aiding their own people's cause."

Unable to understand politics or remain calm enough to deal with them, Garrus simply shakes his head and catches the docking crews' gestures of finishing up the departure procedures. Victus, too, seems to see the tell-tale signs and rumbles, quite for a moment before speaking, voice soft. It's as if the man knows the answer to his offerings and, as Garrus has learned serving with the now-Primarch, it's very likely he can understand the reasons more than anything. _At least someone seems to agree with us._

"Be well, Garrus. I don't know if we'll ever meet again, but know that you have an ally for as long as I lead the turian people."


	78. Chapter 78

Jane

With the Normandy approaching Tuchanka and planned for docking within the next couple of hours, Jane and Garrus decide it's time to bring in the squad. Arcanus, as their second in command, already has an inkling of the possibility that this mission may not be on the up and up concerning the Council, but he hasn't pressed - as is usual for him - but there are bound to be questions from the others. Hell, there might even be disagreements, and Jane figures it's better to lay everything on the table than keep her crew - her trusted companions - in the dark while also expecting their support should anything big come of this visit to the krogan homeworld.

"Traynor," she calls as the lift doors slide open and pauses at the Comm Specialist while her mate continues on to the Conference Room, the seemingly useless room finally having a purpose after the rare use it got during the war. The specialist watches Garrus go curiously, but doesn't question and lets Jane continue. "I need you to send out a comm to all of the ground team to meet with us in the Conference Room immediately." Traynor nods and Jane pauses mere steps from the doors, giving one more command over her shoulder. "Oh, and get Joker and Aelia to open their comms to the room. They need to be in on this too."

The woman always seems to have a habit of using 'ma'am' in instances where given orders like now, and usually Jane would correct her to remind her that there's no need for formality, but it's not important enough to get distracted. Right now, she and Garrus need to be prepared to lay out their plans before their arrival on Tuchanka takes their chance at staying above the waters of confusion, curiosity, and possibly outcry over the troubling situation.

Their human crew may not have too big a problem with the suspicions without evidence, but there may very well be some shit break out from the Council race members. Even if they're a team made of outcasts and misfits, the paranoia over krogan having any sort of power is almost ingrained in people. _Thank god the Dalatrass isn't around. I don't think I'd be able to hear 'I told you so' without blasting her out the airlock._

Garrus waits for her in the Conference Room, hip leaning on the edge of the table and arms crossed as he stares out of the small viewport. The stupid thing has to be just for aesthetic purposes, the weak spot in the center of the ship's hull definitely not the smartest choice, but it does give her husband the perfect chance to just stare out at the stars as he thinks. She's never seen a man fall so deep into his thoughts as he does and often wonders what runs through his mind when he is so far gone.

"You okay?" Moving to him, she mirrors his pose and looks out at the very same stars through the blue wisps that tell of their true speed. "You've been awfully quiet since we left Palaven. Did Victus say something bad?" She chuckles and bumps his hip with hers. "Do I need to kick his ass for you?"

"I didn't think you could raise your leg that high." She scoffs and punches him in the waist to wipe that smirk off his face. "Hey. Easy," he says with a chuckle, grabbing her wrist and keeping it from hitting him again. "I break easily." Snapping her hand from his grip, she makes a show of pouting - huff, crossed arms, and jutted lip - and that only gets her another rumble of amusement before he quiets down to gaze at the stars once more. "Victus told me my political tier. It's… a surprise. Which is an understatement."

"Oh? Let me guess." She hums and glances sideways at him. "You're a janitor now?"

"I wish," he retorts with a snort, but his humor is short lived as his mandibles pull close. "I'm third down." The only reaction she can give to that is a hard blink in disbelief. "I told him I don't want it, though." He huffs a weak laugh and rubs his neck. "Can you imagine me as the leader of the turian people?" Shaking his head, he exhales heavily and finally looks down to her. "More than that, I wouldn't think of putting my family in the front lines before the public." Garrus leans down and presses his mouth to her temple, whispering as the sounds of bootsteps can be heard. "I'd rather live in the smallest prefab on the poorest colony if it meant keeping my family safe and truly happy."

"Then mercs it is," she jokes as she smiles and tilts to kiss him softly before turning to their guests. First is Sidonis - who she's surprisingly sure she saw a glimpse of up in the cockpit - and a small group of others from the Crew Deck follow. So far, Legacy, Rym, Arcanus, Bray, and, surprisingly enough given that he doesn't go to ground, Elihu have made it. She lifts a brow in question and he merely smiles. "I didn't think you'd care for hearing about our drop, Doctor."

"Curious." He nods more to himself than the group as he begins to pace. "Wish to have opportunity to see effect of uncle's work on Cure. Tests stated could alter natural reproductive processes. Would like to examine pregnant female and unborn fetus to check health of both involved." Garrus chuckles as Jane is thrown off once more at how alike Elihu is to Mordin, but, where it would usually send pangs of guilt and pain, she can smile and join in her husband's amusement.

"Let's take things a moment at a time, Solus." Jane holds up a hand to slow down his ramblings and smiles. "I think I know of a woman who'd love to help answer all your questions, but let's not jump her first thing when we land."

"Which brings up the question of why we're here," Bray states as the rest of the ground crew strangles in from their posts around the ship.

Jane nods as Garrus speaks into his Omni-Tool. "Are you connected to the Conference Room?"

The response comes through the intercom as Aelia answers. " _Read you loud and clear_."

Shuffling as Joker shifts in his seat. " _What's this all about? Are we having another vacation, because I'd like to cast a vote on anywhere_ _ **but**_ _Tuchanka."_

James snorts. "I vote for somewhere with decent levo food. Maybe a big, greasy burger and fries piled high."

"'Fraid that's not happening." Jane leans over the table and stares down each and every member of the crew. "This is your only warning. We're about to be doing something that may not jive with all of you. Whatever your opinions, if you can't shut your mouth, then get the fuck out and keep your head down while the rest of us work."

"Just what is this about, Lola?"

She shakes her head once and stands up, eyes dropping to the table. "I need the promise of silence before I continue. This doesn't get out to _anyone_. No reporters, no politicians - fuck - not even your _mother_ can know. If you can't keep quiet, then this mission isn't for you and you can walk away, no strings attached." Waiting, she examines the others for any sign of someone changing their mind and keeps ears open for the intercom to shut off.

" _Well? Did anyone leave?"_ She snorts at Joker's impatience and looks over the group, seeing some of them nod and others look at her expectantly. Obviously, whatever it is she has to say has their attentions based on the sole prospect of being something juicy enough for the secrecy.

"You have to give people time to move, Joker." Garrus hums and steps up beside Jane, taking the lead - as he should given this is a turian and krogan issue. Plus, it might sound more urgent coming from a member of the species in need and show the necessity of remaining calm and cool about this. Hell, if they can see even _Garrus_ remain calm when he could be storming around like a raging bull, then maybe they, too, won't lose their shit. "Now that you all are aware and agree, I won't need to remind you of the consequences that will come if word gets out about this." They either nod or make soft snorts of amusement at the ideas of just want a pissed off Garrus Vakarian can do. "Good," he uncrosses his arms and rumbles, mandibles flicking in thought before pulling back against his chin. "We've been tasked by the Primarch to look into missing turian ships transporting krogan back to Tuchanka."

"And he blames krogan," Rym grumbles, crossing her arms and glaring at the table.

"No." That snaps her eyes up to Jane in surprise. "He doesn't want to lay blame without hearing from Urdnot Wrex."

Her mate nods in agreement and leans a hand on the table, clicking his gloved talons as he hums. "We think Wrex may know something about a rogue clan, or if it's even the krogan at all. It could very well be anything from mercenaries and pirates to even the crew of these ships, all trying to frame the krogan." He huffs a sharp laugh, the sound laced with a hint of that calculating mind she knows well from the few glances of Archangel she's seen. "It's an ingenious way to start another war to take out the krogan if I'm right."

Sephone snorts and cocks her squared ships. "And what if it is the krogan? I wouldn't put it past them." Rym growls and stands up straighter in threat. "Oh, cool it. It's not that out of character for your people."

"My people aren't-"

"Enough," Jane cuts in, holding up her hands to stop any argument, and snaps a glare to the asari. "If you can't keep your bullshit to yourself, then you're off the mission."

" _I don't know what our mission really is, Shepard."_ The confused thrum is easily heard over the comm as Aelia speaks.

Arcanus, not having made a move since arriving, lets his mandibles shift and hums in thought. "This situation may require more investigation into the culprits despite whatever information Wrex may have to offer." Motioning the rest of the group. "It may call for reconnaissance instead of the Normandy's usual tactics."

Jane waves that idea off, knowing full well they would have no chance of any type of information gathering if Wrex can't give them something. For one, they only have one krogan on the team. Not to mention the fact that, if this isn't the krogan, they'd have nowhere to start. "We're going to get Wrex's ideas first. Clan Urdnot is not stupid enough to want war with the galaxy, so they won't be involved and I trust Wrex to know about the goings on on Tuchanka, even if it's just rumors. We can follow rumors even if he doesn't have the men to go on wild goose chases."

"Would he offer aid if it turns out to be something big?" Lantar asks and Jane can hear murmurs of agreement through the room and comm.

Garrus takes the opportunity to answer. "We don't expect to go about this alone. If this doesn't involve Tuchanka, then we might be looking at it, but Wrex won't hesitate to show any krogan responsible that their hunt for war will only turn their own against them." His blue eyes lock on Sephone's, though he addresses the group. "He is changing his people."

"Well, I'm with you and Lola," James announces with a grin. "When do we start?"

Jane chuckles and leans her hip on the table. "Garrus and I will drop first and see what Wrex can tell us. No offence, but an entire team of soldiers, mercs, and criminals wouldn't really gain the best welcome if we want to ask Wrex about his people's possible involvement and _not_ automatically look like we're ready for a fight. He may be willing to help us out in order to free his people of any suspicion, but he'd see armed men at our backs as an insult." She shrugs with a snort. "Hell, I'd be pissed too and think they're accusing me if they point a gun in my face and _ask_."

" _So."_ Joker draws out the word. " _We go in, ask nicely, and hope it's not a pain in the ass to actually_ _ **do**_ _? Because, you know,_ _ **that**_ _happens."_

"Hey. Nothing wrong with having a dream."

"Questions?" Garrus asks the group, looking through them and seeing a collection of head shakes and other gestures for 'negative'. "Good. Dismissed."


	79. Chapter 79

Garrus

Despite orders, and the following agreements, to stay aboard the Normandy while Jane and Garrus meet with Wrex, quite a number of the crew are unable to keep themselves from congregating down in the Cargo Bay to await the drop of the ramp. They all want to catch a glimpse at the acclaimed homestead of the new krogan people, apparently lush with life once never believed to exist on Tuchanka. Jane and Garrus know better, remember well their surprise at the hidden abundance of flora lying just beneath the ruins of the planet, but they completely understand the awe and curiosity. If not for the fact that Reapers were on their tails and the mother of all Thresher Maws beneath their feet, he too would have been stunned silent and frozen under at the sight.

As the Normandy broke atmosphere and closed in on the coordinates received from an Urdnot communications officer, Garrus and his wife were called from where they had been taking the twins to Donnelly and Daniels in Engineering. Something in Joker's voice was akin to the kind of surprise he had shown to the statement 'apparently Jane has a clone' and that, in itself, was enough to get the two to share a confused look before quickly heading for the cockpit.

Joining the two pilots brought them face to face with the encouraging sight of not only cleaning, but rebuilding and new construction efforts at the hands of a reborn krogan people. If Garrus were told of the change in the once violent people, he'd have deemed the story nothing but the insane ramblings of a madman, but he's never known his eyes to lie. At least he hopes so, else he might have to start thinking about vision aids.

Now, drawing in on a makeshift landing platform made from the clearing of a crumbled building structure, the Normandy bustles around them in anticipation of getting a look at the first physical sign that the krogan just may have evolved thanks to the Cure. Jane seems overjoyed and enthused by the idea of their relationship with Wrex actually having an impact at such a large scale, and even Garrus can admit to the relief at the possibility that the millenia long strife between his and Wrex's people may be slowly pushed aside to make way for more important troubles. True, he doesn't expect instant results and may not even see the full impact in his or his children's lifetimes, but just the thought of change is enough for now.

"Never thought I'd see the color green on Tuchanka," Aelia - her curiosity managing to overcome her tendency to stick to the cockpit - says as she shifts to try and see over the ramp's edge as it lowers at a torturous pace.

Chuckling, Garrus shrugs in feigned dismissal. "It's not that big a deal."

She snorts and clicks her mandibles as Sidonis, at her side, tilts his head in question. "You've seen it before?" Garrus nods and the man's eyes widen. "Spirits. When?"

"When he was _supposed_ to be covering my ass and not sightseeing," Jane jokes with a teasing smirk in Garrus' direction.

"Hey, you saw this before and didn't tell us?" James narrows his eyes and crosses his arms. He shakes his head and glances at Cortez at his side. "Pendejos," he mock whispers and Cortez chuckles, trying hard not to be in the middle of the conversation as Garrus knows full well the man had seen Tuchankan flora before when he picked the team up after dispersing the Cure. "Wait… you've seen it, haven't you?" When the man shrugs, James throws up his hands and leaves to join another cluster of crew saying something Garrus' translator doesn't catch.

"Remember, everyone!" His mate throws up her hands to catch everyone's attentions and draw their eyes away from the slow reveal of a living Tuchanka. Garrus isn't too sure how successful she is, but she does manage to stand at the head of the ramp and, at least, in the crowd's way. "Stick to the docks and Normandy. While the krogan aren't going to shoot our heads off, I'm sure the hoard of us isn't going to get many smiles and cheers." She drops her hands and jerks a thumb over her shoulder, a grin lighting up her face. "Let us talk to Wrex, the clan leader, and see if we can get ourselves a round of ryncol or something. I'm sure the krogan would love to share some war stories with y'all once they are prepared for us to invade."

"If you want to seem less threatening, why are you going in armed to the teeth?"

Garrus chuckles at Sephone's question and moves up to join his wife at the top of the ramp just as the ship settles to the ground. "This is Tuchanka. It'd be just plain rude _not_ to be." As Jane bumps his side and heads down the ramp, he rumbles in confusion. "Shouldn't Rym be going with us?" he asks, scanning the Cargo Bay for the woman in question and finding her not around. "Where is she?"

Jane snorts and doesn't look back. "She's too busy with her new toys down in the AI Core. Apparently, her and Legacy have found a cache of data EDI locked away in case of Reaper corruption." She shrugs and Garrus joins her, strides large enough for him to meet up with her at the base of the ramp just as she steps down. "If Wrex or anybody wants to see her, we'll have to drag her out kicking and screaming."

They leave the crew to their sightseeing from the docks and approach the - oddly enough - fidgeting krogan escort. Seeing the man not armed or even wearing a set of armor besides the thicker clothes usually used in manual labor where less reinforced clothing wouldn't last longer than a day. It's similar to what Garrus once wore on Earth when helping to clean rubble with other refugees, so it's strange to see a worker in person to greet them - and an obviously nervous one at that.

The man smiles anxiously as they approach and nods in greeting. "Shepard, Vakarian." He shifts, an internal debate flashing in his eyes before he jerks out a hand to shake, the gesture clearly not one he's used to. "My name is Urdnot Krem. Clan Leader Wrex wanted me to help you through the settlement."

Jane is first to take his hand with a firm shake before Garrus follows, rumbling a friendly vocal. "It's nice to meet you," he says as he motions for the man to lead the way. "Although, I'm curious as to why Wrex thinks we need help. Are you expecting trouble?" He lifts a brow to his wife as the krogan chuckles nervously.

"Not… quite like that." A single eye glances over his shoulder before he exhales a raspy breath. "Maybe it's easier if you see."

"Oh boy. I can't wait," Jane deadpans, but soon smiles and nudges Garrus' side. "Let's just hope they aren't throwing food. Pretty sure krogan food could knock us out going at those speeds."

He and their escort chuckle and the man seems to relax a bit just as they cross under the shadow of a large structural archway at the top of wide stairs descending into a valley of green peeking and bursting forth from the ruins of fallen building and architecture. Ancient pyramids rise in the distance, cutting through the haze of heat as greenery gives way to sand and rubble deeper into the city. He'd never have imagined this type of beauty could exist on a war torn and irradiated planet like Tuchanka, but he can't deny the very sight before him. Perhaps, he considers, it is possible for life to thrive on this planet and not have to scrape by as the krogan have for so long.

Down below in the valley, the krogan - male and female alike - slow their cleaning, building, and harvesting as heads turn to see who may have taken to visiting in the massive frigate. As realization of who stands beside Krem in the shade of the towering arch, eyes widen and bodies still, and Garrus can almost swear he sees happiness and… reverence in their eyes? _Well, I guess it's better than throwing food at us_.

Urdnot Krem hums uncomfortably as the krogan below begin to leave their duties and move towards the base of the stairs, congregating into a building crowd. Garrus can count on one hand the times he's seen unarmored males in the numbers that wait below, and couldn't even have imagined the sight of a pregnant female - let alone the sheer numbers that look up with a kind of awe in their eyes. Sharing a look of confusion with his wife, they slowly follow Krem down to join the crowd and, hopefully, cut through without trouble.

"This is just fucking weird." Jane's brows raise in surprise as those krogan closest to their descent duck their heads in respect, some even smiling or nodding approvingly. "Is this weird to you?" Garrus nods as Krem raises his hands in demand to make way.

All around them, krogan murmur and stare in awe. Females lay hands on their swollen abdomens, but not in a protective gesture as Garrus would have assumed with narrowed eyes and scowling features. Instead, these mothers try to huddle closer, to get better looks, and touch their growing bellies in a way of sharing this moment with their unborn children. It's with this that Garrus starts to understand, starts to read the evidence.

He starts to chuckle, smiling and returning nods of greeting to those krogan not averting their eyes in nervousness. When he catches his wife's expectant lip purse and raised brow, he explains what he now sees. "You're the reason they will have children. It's because of you that the Cure was ever completed. Mordin couldn't do it without you."

"Yeah, but I didn't do it alone."

He lowers his voice and dips his head to press his forehead to her temple, unable to completely hide the hint of sadness in his voice despite knowing there was no better choice. "But you gave away your chance to be a mother again so that they could have children of their own."

A frown flutters over her face before she looks around and sees the look in the eyes of every krogan around her. Seeing her now, Garrus realizes that they did not lose everything when she decided to sacrifice for the krogan people. After all the pain Jane has put herself through, a pain that still hasn't faded completely despite her coming to terms from their experience on the Citadel, she is now seeing the good that could only have come from her actions. He may be the one to hold her after her nightmares and promise her there is still something worth feeling proud of after the war, but only being her can truly show her.

"We owe you everything, Shepard," Krem says as they are encircled by krogan practically itching to reach out, to touch or speak to the woman that has broken through the species barrier to lift a people up from extinction. "Without you, we would be nothing. Our children would never have been given the chance to live."

Nods of those close enough to hear come with soft thanks and agreements in rumbling tones that Garrus' translator struggles to put into Standard and distinguish into separate individual sources. A younger krogan, born before the war but still too young for the final battle, pushes forward and offers Garrus a small stone, carved into a slender figure. He takes it and smiles, offering thanks before examining it. Even hand carved, it knows what it is, and he can't help the teasing smirk that spreads his mandibles when Jane tries to peek at his gift.

"Looks like you have a fan," he simply says as he offers over the slender, humanoid carving.

"What's-" Her eyes widen and cheeks darken. "Uh… No…" At that, Garrus laughs and lays a hand on her shoulder.

"Should I be worried about not being able to get you off Tuchanka now?" If her glares could kill, he'd be long gone the moment her head snaps up.

When Garrus told Jane that he suspected the krogan would write war songs of her, he will admit he was entirely joking. Sure, maybe in a few centuries her tale would grow to epic and unbelievable proportions, but, then again, many krogan tales of old follow that same theme. Hell, even some turian tales seem too fantastic to be true. He had no idea the krogan would actually go about and start seeing her as something more than human, though. Even carving stones into a human female figurine? He's pretty sure that wasn't something they did before the war and he's certainly sure it's not some unrelated hobby one of them has picked up.

This whole situation is, plainly put, absolutely hilarious. At his mate's expense, of course.

"You aren't telling me this is some kind of hero worship or something. Is it?" She rounds Krem and stops him from taking them any further into the settlement. "It's not, right? Right?"

"Commander-"

"I'm not a commander."

"Sorry. Shepard," Krem tries again, clearing his throat and ducking his head even though he's still high above the tiny human. "I don't really know how to answer that. We sort of see you just as much a mother as all of our females. More so considering what you gave to help us-"

"Alright, alright! Make way!" Garrus immediately recognizes that booming voice and Jane's exasperated frown finally relaxes as her shoulder droop with a sigh. As Wrex's massive bulk pushes through the crowd, the two Spectres can't help but to grin at the hulking krogan's boisterous laugh at the sight of them. "You at you two crazy kiroks!" Grabbing Jane's forearm, he pulls her into a rough one armed hug. "You look good, Shepard," he says with a mock leer Garrus knows is at his own expense.

She snorts and flips a hand once she's released. "Please, I look _damn_ good."

Wrex chuckles and - to his surprise - pulls Garrus into the same, rough greeting. "You still look like shit, Vakarian."

"Figured all the krogan females would be after me, so I decided to level the playing field."

Wrex laughs and shoves him roughly, knocking him off balance. "As if you'd have a chance." Motioning with a jerk of his head to follow, the clan leader lumbers further into the settlement and the crowd disperses to return to their work. "Come on, Bakara and Grunt are waiting for us up at the tower. We have a lot to talk about."

"Speaking of," Jane says, hurrying to catch up so she can give the krogan a stern glare. "What's with the whole worshipping me shit?"


	80. Chapter 80

Jane

Wrex grunts, and Jane knows full well that he's trying to hide his amused smirk. _Bastard._ Still, she lets him have his fun because, once he sees the other side of this supposed 'fertility goddess' bullshit when his own little krogans are born, he won't be laughing. If turian - well, half-turian, half-human - children are anything to go by, then krogan babies are bound to be ten times worse. _Sweet revenge_.

"Blame Bakara," Wrex grumbles as he lumbers towards a recently cleared ruin that looks like the remains of a large, tiered pyramid from its sloping sides. She can't be sure, though, with the massive structure missing the point it was most likely built into. "She encouraged it."

"And how, exactly, did she do that?" Jane has to walk faster than the other two in order to keep up from both her shorter stride and heavy armor and weapons on her back. "Because I find it awfully hard to believe you didn't get a hell of a kick out of it."

Chuckling, he lifts a brow ridge and gives her a huge grin. "I might have failed to present any arguments against it." Garrus laughs at her side and she scolds him with a piercing glare. "Besides," Wrex continues without a care towards her less than thrilled scowl. "If it gives the younger krogan and females something to look to, then why stop it? It's better than wanting to go to war."

"True, but I'm surprised everyone was so quick to make Jane some kind of… idol."

Wrex shrugs as they climb the massive steps, short and wide enough for even the largest of krogan feet. "Bakara told of Shepard's role in the Cure, and it just led to others seeing her as more than just human. Give it time and you might just become more than a living idol, Shepard." He gives her that same shit-eating grin. "I bet that'll feed your ego."

"Thanks," she deadpans. As flattering as the idea of being given thanks for her deeds, being given a god-like status already is just, strange. Sure, she has expected to be deemed some grand hero, but a fertility goddess? Very unnerving. _Let's just hope I'm not around to see them erect some statue or something._ "So, where is Bakara, anyways? I have some _words_ for her."

Her false threat doesn't convince Wrex as he simply hums in assuaging agreement. 'Yeah, you do that, Shepard,' it clearly says, and it only makes Jane all the more frustrated. This was not what she signed up for when she saved the galaxy and helped cure the krogan. Why can't Bakara just name one of her children after her like with Mordin? At least, if they ever made fertility dolls about him, he'd have just commented on the craftsmanship and not batted an eye at the irony of using a salarian as a symbol of birth and motherhood.

Her annoyance and pouting is slowly fading as her eyes acquaint themselves from the bright sun outside to the dimmer, shadowed interior. Here and there, light falls through the large hole left after the destruction of the top of the pyramid, but, looking up, Jane can see how there is more that this one level. Made into rings so that the building would have still had that open feel, the light from the damage above let in illumination where the krogan would usually have to find lights and generators to feed them. Now, they can use those pieces of tech for something much more beneficial.

The light does not go used as groups of unarmored krogan hover around makeshift tables, heads down and voices rumbling in talks. Eyes will look up to see the entering band of krogan leader, apparent fertility goddess, and a turian scarred enough to pass as one of their own. They don't linger, however, as a few curt nods pass between visitors and greeters before quickly returning to their work. From the closest huddle of krogan they pass on their way, Jane is filled with happiness and pride to see not plans for war, but a blueprint for what looks like a greenhouse or similar farming layout. _Perhaps there's potential for life on Tuchanka yet._

"You certainly haven't waited to start rebuilding." Garrus hums and Jane glances his way to seem him scanning every nook and cranny of the building and it's occupants. _Old habits die hard with him_.

Wrex scoffs and shakes his head. "And we don't even have the Reapers to blame. We did this ourselves." Climbing up a raised platform that was obviously meant for whatever passed as rulers for the past krogan people, Wrex leans on a table, a large piece of something that almost looks like tarnished and dirty leather rolled out. Scrawled over the improvised scroll is a half completed sketch of a settlement layout. "It'll take centuries to get Tuchanka anywhere close to what it once was."

"Wrex. They didn't come to lament over past mistakes." Jane smiles at the sound of the female's voice as she slowly walks from the shadows further ahead into the pyramid. Bakara is swollen with child, but the leader wears it well, her shawl bobbing as she climbs the steps to join them. Even better is the fact that she's not alone as Grunt, her proclaimed guard according to Liara's reports.

Bakara dips her head and takes Jane's offered hand, clasping it in both of her massive ones. "It's good to see you again," Jane says as the woman moves to do the same to Garrus.

"As it is to see you, as well, Shepard."

Bakara steps aside - and just in time too - for a charging Grunt to storm up the steps and throw his arms around both Spectres, laughing. "Heh, heh, heh! I knew you couldn't be killed!" He backs up and punches her hard on the shoulder, and she fights not to flinch at the rough treatment. "It took you long enough to come."

"Well, if I could, I'd have flown here myself if that's all it took." Jane chuckles as he grins and follows the two to join Wrex around the slab. "So, I figure this is where you've made your homes?"

"It's good enough for now." Wrex taps a finger at an unfinished part of the map. "Deeper into the city will be more difficult, but, with other clans' help, I bet we'll be through it in one of your lifetimes."

"Now I feel old considering I'll be gray and withered before I'll get to see that."

Garrus chuckles and lays a hand on her shoulder. "I'll be right there with you."

She snorts. "You're _half_ there, already. Unless you forgot, your plates are already gray." He flicks his mandible at her horrible joke and she playfully nudges his hand off her shoulder, looking back to the three krogan. "Speaking of other clans, I thought you already had a lot of them allied with you?"

Wrex nods. "Yes, but not all of them have what's needed to get here. Not every clan has tomkas to spare after the war."

"And many others fear leaving where they consider home," Bakara adds with a dip of her head. "The journey to any viable land entails weathering the dangers of Tuchanka. So we must come up with ways to spread the wealth of the land to our brothers and sisters unable to join us." She motions the numerous krogan around the chamber. "We will share all we learn with them, teach them how to plant new growth, rebuild, and unite as one people without destroying our distinct and individual clans."

Wrex snorts. "Better said than done."

"It just takes time, Wrex."

Wrex rolls his red eyes and Jane finally moves to look over the plans for this nameless city. "So you're stuck. Nothing to transport people here and no idea how many more oases exist. And I bet most of the other clans aren't as ballsy as Urdnot to go looking," she adds with a nudge at the large krogan to cheer him up. He doesn't move from her push, but he does react with a grumble and wave away with a massive hand.

"Tell that to the idiots still demanding we find a way to bring them here. I don't have the resources to travel halfway across the damn planet just to bring in clans not even sure they would like to settle outside of their territory. But they still demand Urdnot do something to 'share the wealth', as I've heard humans say it." He shakes his head and turns to lean his hip on the slab, arms crosses expectantly as he eyes her. "But you didn't come here just to see how we were doing."

"Can you believe I came here to see your ugly mug?" As he lifts a brow ridge, she sighs and steps from the slab, starting to walk a short path before the group. "Shit. Of course not." She looks the krogans' way and smiles guiltily. "And I know we promised you could see the twins, and you will, but we haven't had the chance. With the injuries, then the Alliance bullshit, then the fucking Council, then-"

"Spit it out," Grunt growls, head moving as he watches her pace. "You're giving me a headache."

Sighing, her shoulders drop and she stops moving. She takes a moment just to stare out at the collective of krogans trying their damn just to fucking _live_ , to build a place for their children to grow up as safe as possible on a hellhole like Tuchanka. How can she let war come to them when it's clear they aren't to blame for the disappearances of the turian transports? Yet, how can she be sure to solve the problem _and_ keep these men and women safe if another, unallied clan is to blame? The Council certainly would care to see the differences, to imagine the krogan people can actually have differing views and goals like any other sentient race.

Yet, she can't keep them in the dark. Whether or not she pisses off their friends and hospitable krogan, she owes it to them to try and solve the problem. Krogan responsible or not, they need to know that the galaxy, even now, will have their eyes on their people for what could very well be the rest even their children's lives.

Jane runs a hand over her pulled back hair and grips her bun for a moment before sighing. "I have nothing against enjoying our visit, you're right." Turning to face them, she throws on a defensive mask she hasn't worn around these three krogan in - well, never. It's the face of Commander Shepard staring back at the three expectant krogan and Commander Shepard that prepares for any backlash. Friend he may be, but she'd never blame Wrex for 'shooting the messenger', as it were, once he hears what she has to say. Hell, has to _accuse_ the krogan of. "We've been sent by Primarch Victus."

Wrex snorts and shakes his head, lip curling into a scowl. "What? He regretting his decision already?" He steps straight and swipes the air with his hand as he says, "Well, too damn bad. The Genophage is cured and that's how it'll stay, or we can promise the krogan won't sit by so easily this time."

"That's not what he wants," Garrus says, looking up from the blueprints as he breaks his silence. "Quite the opposite." He looks to the krogan and motions the scroll. "He doesn't want to set the krogan back any further, not after you helped my people in the war."

"But he is getting some very fucked up reports." Jane walks closer to the group to limit any interlopers in this tenuous conversation. "Ships transporting krogan back to Tuchanka are going missing."

"And he thinks the krogan are to blame?" Grunt scowls and leans his hands on the slab, snarling as he tries to quiet his voice. "That bastard doesn't have the quad to tell that to our face?"

"Grunt," Bakara warns, her tone brokering no protest. "Let them finish." Her eyes turn to Wrex and he looks aside, he, too, admonished for continuously interrupting. Finally, she returns her veiled eyes to Jane and her husband. "Please. Continue."

Exhaling heavily, Jane flexes her fingers as she lets her Commander face down and tries to word everything as best she can. "Victus doesn't want to bring this to face. He wants to get word from you of anything happening on Tuchanka. Plain? He sent us to see if you were keeping your word."

"No clan of mine has attacked _any_ ship. We don't want a damn war, we just want the same rights as every other fucking species. To not be treated like idiot brutes!" Wrex balls his fist and struggles not to slam it on the slab and call all attention to their private discussion.

"You can't deny that there were many clans that didn't agree with your plans to focus more on colonizing and regrowing your people than revenge." Garrus hums and looks at Wrex, flicking his mandibles once as he jerks his head out towards the settlement. "Do you really want your people to be blamed for the attacks of those clans? Or would you rather keep that stubborn pride up and refuse to admit your kind has faults like every other damn species?"

"I never said we don't, turian." Wrex jabs a finger at Garrus' chest. "But you're the ones coming here under the guise of friendship just to accuse the krogan of attacking turian ships."

"Then prove everyone wrong," Jane says, covering the krogan's hand and lowering it. "We aren't the only ones that understand the krogan aren't unified, and we aren't the only ones willing to be allies with you if you just help us. Help us help you. Give us a way to make sure no krogan is responsible, that maybe it's someone framing your people or, hell, just picking off ships for whatever damn reason and these are just the only ones standing out. The last thing we want is another fucking war." She snorts derisively at the thought on her tongue. "Hell, the Alliance is so gungho about war with the batarians and it's as if they _didn't_ just get wiped out along with every other species." She looks to tense Wrex, raising a brow. "The Alliance are idiots, but you're not like them, are you?"

Wrex's pupils dilate and constrict as he looks between the two Spectres, and it isn't until Grunt shifts, relaxing, and Bakara lays a hand on his shoulder that the thin thread between sanity and rage strengthens once more. Sighing, Wrex drops his head. "Dammit, Shepard. After everything my people have had to go through… It never ends."

Jane shakes her head and moves to stand next to him, leaning her hip against the slab to look over his people and out into the bright and green settlement valley. "No. And I can't say it ever will, but you have allies, Wrex. Garrus isn't wrong, the Primarch _does_ truly respect what your people have done for the galaxy during the war and still stands by curing the Genophage. Sure, it was sudden and I'm sure he's a bit thrown, but he'll stand by his decision, and will continue to when you show that the krogan won't stand for their own kind screwing shit up by being idiots."

"You have a lot of faith," Grunt says and she nods, looking to Garrus for explanation.

"I've known the man even before he became the Primarch. He wasn't one for protocols and usual procedure when it only tied his hands. When he became the Primarch, he saw even more how following strict guidelines would only lose more people than bending the rules." He rumbles and looks up to the massive krogan leader. "He is still a man who has lost much during the war, but he has also seen through the three of you that the krogan are not as tales say. He understands that your people are just in a state of disconnect, and that it's no different from our own history with the Unification War. The last thing Victus wants is for paranoia to take over when sending us to you could prevent that."

"The Primarch has extended trust." Bakara looks to Wrex and Grunt, nodding so that her shawl bobs. "We should share that trust."

Jane knows there is something unsaid between the three of the krogan, but she can't tell what until Wrex sighs and walks to lean on the slab, massive hands covering most of the sketching. Head down, he explains, "Clan Okamor has been spouting krogan supremacy crap all over Tuchanka, but I never took Okamor Urik to make anything of it." He looks up to her, one eye looking into hers. "If anyone on Tuchanka would be stupid enough to try anything, it'd be him and his ilk."

"How strong is this clan?"

The tension between Garrus and Wrex seems to drop away instantly as the krogan looks to the turian. "He has at least two clans' worth of krogan supporting him."

"He's been trying to have females join, but they have refused to get involved in any clans still following the old ways." Bakara doesn't elaborate, but Jane is pretty sure 'the old ways' didn't involve respecting females considering how they had to escape into protected, solitary clans when the genophage plagued them. To men like him, Jane assumed a female was nothing more than an object and tool to increase numbers. _Disgusting asshole._

"Any idea where they'd be?"

"Last I knew of them, they were holed up in some ruins up by the Rorouki Mountains." At her confused look, Wrex sighs and seems to roll his eyes. "It's close to five days' ride in a tomak. On the other side of the temple in the distance." He jerks a thumb towards the opposite edge of the valley where the tallest pyramid - or, she supposes so considering how much was still left of it - was seen when they arrived.

Garrus emits a thrum and looks out into the valley. "I suppose you don't know for sure?"

"No, but I can find out." Grunt steps forward and Jane raises a brow.

"Recon?" He nods and she chuckles. "I hope you have someone because a turian and human wouldn't really blend in too well with a clan of angry krogan."

He makes that hitching chuckle before grinning. "Aralakh has a scout in the area."

"We like to keep tabs on any unallied clans."

"I remember you saying something like that before." Sighing, she crosses her arms and drops her chin to her armored chest, eyes closing. "We don't have any other leads, yet. Let's hope this Orcmors - or whatever - guy is just talking shit and not really doing anything. I don't know what we'll do if we can't take them down ourselves."

"If it is him, you have every one of the clans loyal to Urdnot with you."


	81. Chapter 81

Jane

“Remind me again who thought leaving the twins in the hands of a bunch of krogan was a good thing?”

Jane snorts at her husband’s exasperated drone as she tugs up her son’s shorts as he uses the back of the couch for support.  Tucked over his little hips, she smiles and snatches him into her arms with a mock growl, making him squeal and laugh.  Garrus at their side chuckles, a warm smile spreading his mandibles as Cassia - not really needing a reason - laughs along with her brother and bounces in her father’s lap.  

Sitting down with Damocles in hand, Jane grabs the two pairs of tiny shoes.  This small, turian shoes are made with wide toe pocket instead of the separate toed ones adults tend to where.  Which brings up the question of just what they’re going to do once the twins grow past the one-toed baby shoes and into the divided-toed children’s.   _ Damn, never thought of that… _

“Jane,” her mate says, breaking her out of her thoughts and making her aware of holding the shoes in one hand without actually giving them over.  He lifts a brow plate and smirks knowingly.  “Lost in thought, I see.”

Clicking her lips, she puts the shoes in his hand with some force in retaliation at his teasing.  “I was thinking about trading you in for a krogan with better scars.”

Unperturbed, he laughs and shakes his head with a smug grin.  “Good luck with that.”  He rumbles when she rolls her eyes and leans in to nuzzle just above her ear at the hairline.  “What do you say we pass on the whole ‘introducing the twins to an entire settlement of baby crazy krogan?”

She snorts and gently eases on of Damocles’ shoes on his wiggling foot.  “Oh, come on.  What could possibly go wrong?  They don’t want to hurt the kids, and if you think of Bakara and Wrex, they were really gentle with them.  I doubt the others will be any different.”

“That’s two krogan.”

“And Grunt?  What about Grunt?”  He’s quiet for a moment and, when she looks over to him, his brow plate is raised nearly to his fringe.  “What?”

“You  _ do  _ remember Grunt proposing we give the twins ryncol when they were crying, right?”  Her lips pucker in remembrance, but instead of granting him that victory, she shrugs and looks at her work to get the other shoe on as if Garrus is merely pulling excuses out of his ass.  “Jane?”

“Oh, alright.”  She smiles at his warm chuckle.  “With supervision, I’m sure he’d be fine.”

“Oh,  _ right _ .”  Despite his good natured protectiveness - because they both know their children are well protected here in the krogan settlement - Garrus shifts Cassia to his chest and stands.  “Next you’ll tell me we should get them a pet pyjak or something.”

She hums in mock consideration before huffing a laugh.  “We  _ are  _ on a planet with plenty of them and a people more than happy to get rid of them.”

“We are  _ not  _ getting them a pyjak,” he says sternly as he leads the way out and taps the command to call for the lift.  Once the door close at their backs, he sighs and leans a shoulder against the wall.  “Tell the truth, I’m curious to see what Wrex is so secretive about.  I sure hope he doesn’t have some huge plan to - I don’t know - perform some weird krogan Rite with them.”

She laughs at that thought, imagining the very likely possibility that their twins may, one day, find themselves a way to do just that.  It would definitely fit into the many feats of the Vakarian family to be the first non-krogan to perform a Rite under a krogan battlemaster.  Sure, she and Garrus participated with Grunt, but it was for him with the two of them by his side.  Knowing Wrex and Grunt now, she has no doubt they will be, at least, partially responsible for dragging their kids into predicaments only fit for a Vakarian-bred terror.

“I’m going to bet it has something to do with riding a varren.  Oh!  Like a race!”  Her husband gives her a stern scowl and she grins.  “No?  What about a game of bumper klixen?”

“If Wrex mentions anything like that, I’m leaving you here with them.”  She snorts at his deadpanned threat and bumps her shoulder against him.  “And if he doesn't?  Then let's not give him any ideas.”

“You're right.  He's probably thought up something much cooler.”  Shifting Damocles to get a better look, she smiles and taps his nose gently.  “Are you looking forward to hanging out with all your krogan family?”  Garrus grumbles something sarcastically, but she pays him no mind as their son's face lights up in excitement.  True, he may not have any idea what she means, but she has a feeling he knows what 'family’ means and understands he's on his way to getting whoever they are's attention.  “I have a feeling - no, I'm  _ positive _ \- you're going to like them.  They remind me a lot of you, my little destructive monster.”

As the lift slows on the lower level, Jane can already tell that word has quickly spread through the ship of the predicted extension of their stay by the near silence of elevator calls to the other decks.  Aralakh spy already in contact or not, it's estimated to be a long wait before they have any true evidence that clan Orkamor is truly to blame for the attacks on turian transport vessels.  If they just rush in immediately, they could very well be responsible for killing an innocent - relatively speaking - clan of a crime they didn't commit.  For the Normandy, it wouldn't really be all that big a problem except for needing a new lead, but for Wrex and his allies?  They could, ultimately, lead clans still on the fence to believe that any who are not allied with clan Urdnot will be fed to the other species as sacrificial lambs.  

Jane doesn’t need to be all that well versed in the ways of the galaxy to know that will only result in the krogan people remaining isolated amongst themselves and ready to pull the trigger on both other species and each other.  She can’t let that happen, so if it takes the Normandy staying put so that the Aralakh scout can collect enough proof of Orkamor’s involvement, then so be it.  They can always consider it a sort of shore leave, even if Tuchanka is a less than preferred destination.   _ Beggars can’t be choosers. _

As the doors slide open with a slow drag, Jane chuckles at the numerous crew members standing around the lowered ramp like lost lambs.   _ You’d think they’ve never seen a planet up close before. _  Stepping out of the elevator before her mate, she holds Damocles one-handed and lifts her free arm into the air in a grand wave.  “Welcome all to Tuchanka!”  That manages to draw their attention as they turn to face her, confusion, amusement, disappointment, and many other emotions across the spectrum on their faces.  “I give you all, shore leave.”

Sephone scoffs and crosses her arms.  “You telling me we left Palaven… for  _ this _ ?  This is bullshit.”  Bray chuckles at her side and she glares at him.  “Shut it, batarian.”

“Don’t be such a bitch,” Rym says as Bray holds up a hand to her, calming her down before turning to Sehone with a smirk.

“If you’re so upset about being on Tuchanka, then there’s always ryncol to wash away your disappointment.”  

“Right.  Because I’d rather be blackout drunk.”

“Win-win,” he merely replies, pulling some chuckles from the others, and Jane clears her throat to draw the group of children’s attention back to her.

“Alright,” she states with a sharp tone that brokers no more interruptions.  “So here’s the drill.  We’re stuck here while krogan scouts get us our information.  Clan Urdnot has given us stay and opened their arms to us.   _ All  _ of us.  That means that you’re free to walk around the settlement, chat someone up, go for some shooting on the perimeter, watch some varren fights… whatever you want.  If the krogan don’t like it, they’ll tell you to kindly fuck off, so listen and there won’t be problems.”  Looking to her mate, she asks with a single look if there’s anything else.  He shrugs and she returns to the group.  “We’ll send out a crew-wide ping when we get anything about our mission.  You don’t have to leave the Normandy, but you can’t just stand around like lost puppies.  So get the hell out.”  

She waves a hand towards sharply towards the exit, the movement dispersing the crowd with some final purpose.  Chuckling, she watches as some head down the ramp, others still mull about without coming to a decision, and a small number decide to stay aboard and head for the lift.  She smiles at some of the subtleties of her crew that she’s sure they don’t know she sees.  She knows Garrus has probably seen them way before she did, but he has the whole ‘former detective’ excuse.

Sephone scowls as she watches Rym practically drag Legacy with her to show him her home, and Jane has a moment of curiosity as to why, it seems, Sephone has had such a problem with the younger krogan - which now seems to stem from a dislike for  _ all  _ krogan.  It doesn’t affect their working together, so Jane moves her attention onward, watching Bray, James, Steve, and Kenneth head down the ramp with bottles of beer and what looks like packets of food in hand.  She is pretty sure the pep in Elihu’s step means he’s off to try and get a female krogan to let him examine her and take notes on her pregnancy.  Harrot doesn’t go far from the ship, sticking to trying to get a sale off of the few krogan standing around the docks, and, surprisingly to see, Aelia and Sidonis walk awfully close as they pass on their way back to the lift.  

Jane gives the woman a smirk and raised brow, wondering since when did a woman admittedly uninterested in courtship suddenly decide against her own vows of solitude.  Aelia gives a mandible flick and slight shrug, the change a surprise even for her, but Jane is happy for them, Sidonis especially.  Perhaps whatever happened between him and Garrus helped to move him past the anxiety of walking on eggshells and, maybe, even helped him move on from his interest in a man that would never reciprocate.  

With the only one of the ground crew remaining in the Cargo Bay being Arcanus as he stands ever still, hand at his back, and watching the secondary crew work among the docks and beyond, Jane knows the others have decided to remain on board.  She doesn’t really blame Joker - his hope still not enough to overcome his pain - and knows Samantha and Gabby are probably spending at least today in each other’s company having a ‘girl’s day’, if Jane has the term right.

“Are you heading out, Arcanus?” she asks as she and Garrus move to get off the Normandy and meet up with Wrex. 

“I will remain aboard the Normandy should duty call.”

She snorts and shakes her head.  “Meaning you’d rather chew on varren shut than leave your precious terminal?”

“I’m sure he wouldn’t use  _ that  _ particular statement.”  Garrus nudges her shoulder with the back of his free hand.  “Let’s go.  Quit pestering everyone who decides they’d rather stay than experience krogan hospitality.”

“I’m not pestering,” she protests as she moves at his gentle urging.  “Am I pestering?”  She looks back at Arcanus, but he merely turns to return to his work that never seems to have an end.  “I am so not pestering.”

“You are pestering.”  Her mate chuckles.  “Don’t act like I didn’t see that look you gave Aelia.”

“What look?  There was no look.”

Unconvinced, he hums in feigned agreement.  “Whatever look you didn’t -  _ did -  _ give aside, Wrex is bound to be waiting on us.  Whatever it is he wanted to show us, he seemed like it was important enough to have a deadline.”

“Oh boy, you know us and deadlines.”

True to Garrus’ suspicions, Wrex and Bakara, both, await them at the settlement atop the stairs that lead into the valley.  Bakara seems to have some kind of fabric in her hands and a smile in her eyes as they approach.  At her side, Wrex seems to fidget, and doesn’t even wait for them before lumbering across the distance.  “About time.  I was about to go get you myself.”

“Sorry, sir,” Jane mock salutes.  “I had to take a shit and it took longer than expected.”  She can practically feel Garrus deflate in exasperation, but Wrex doesn’t even seem to hear her as he holds out a hand for her son.  “You sure you want to hold him?  You look like you’re about to pop out of your plates.”

“Just hand him over, dammit.”  Something about him seems to speak of nerves, and hell if she doesn’t know why, but she shifts Damocles into his massive hands.  Their son immediately smiles and chirps, pawing the krogan’s scars.  

“What’s this about, Wrex?”  Garrus rumbles and frowns in confusion as Bakara joins them, starting to drap a small shawl over Damocles’ head.  

“We would like to honor you and your family,” she explains, shading Cassia with another small shawl.  “Right, Wrex?”

The stern tone in the woman’s voice seems to snap him into shape as he sighs and looks first at the baby in his hands before up at Garrus and Jane.  “She’s right.  It’s an old, krogan tradition to give a child born their first Rite.  Even if they aren’t krogan, Damocles and Cassia are Urdnot, warriors and survivors, and they deserve the honor to be the first to earn the First Rite after the war.”

“The first of the new generation of krogan, free of the Genophage.”  Wrex nods in agreement to Bakara’s words and Jane is stunned to silence with understanding.

Wrex may have called her and Garrus a sister and brother and allies to clan Urdnot, but they never really thought it was more than just being in the old krogan’s heart, in being closer than his own flesh and blood family.  What they are offering, to actually give their children a Rite, and a very important one given the rarity of surviving children?  Is that even possible to give to children not of the species?  

Who else would be able to grant that but the leaders themselves?

She opens and closes her mouth in silence a few times before looking to her mate, seeing he is in much the same state.  For him, it must be even more shocking.  To have a child of a species deemed a sworn enemy of krogan granted an honor only given to Tuchankan born krogan children?  Less than a lifetime ago, krogan would look to kill a turian if they so much as stepped foot on Tuchanka, but now their own leaders are offering - practically  _ asking  _ \- to celebrate their children’s birth?

“We… We’d be honored,” Garrus says, his vocals low and thrumming deeply, and she can clearly see the humble thanks in his eyes as he dips his head in his people’s sign of respect.  It’s a gesture she hasn’t seen in awhile from him, but one that speaks volumes towards his emotions at being granted such a sign of peace between their people.

Jane smiles and looks to Bakara, then Wrex.  “Well, you  _ did  _ consider us part of your family, so we might as well make it official.  Better than naming your kid after me,” she adds with a smirk and warms with joy at the ease of tension between the two males of the group.  

“We can have plenty more children thanks to you, Shepard,” Bakara merely states as she gently eases Cassia into her arms, resting the child to the side of her round belly.  Gloved finger caressing the baby’s cheek under the protective shawl, she hums a soft sort of melody.

Jane clears her dry throat, sure that it’s not entirely due to the sun and heat.  “So… Uh… What now?”

“A group of shamen will get them ready for the ceremony.”  Wrex looks out over the settlement and points to a short, wide pyramid further down the valley towards the end of where the krogan have been clearing the rubble.  It’s well within the green land of the settlement where the krogan still work the land and build new homes, but still far enough into the ruins that it would be quite the walk.  “There’s a small temple where they will prepare.”

“The shamen with take the twins, bathe them in oil and water, dress them in colors of our ancestors, and prepare the temple for clan Urdnot’s arrival.”  

Her mate hums and shifts on his feet at Bakara’s words as a triplet of robed and covered female krogan begin to approach through the field and settlement workers, drawing curious eyes.  “Why do they have to take them?  Without us?”  Jane frowns at the confused trill in his voice.  It’ll be uncomfortable to let the krogan shamen take the twins and they haven’t been that far from them, but she trusts these krogan, trusts clan Urdnot, to protect them.  “How long will it take?”

“Not long, Garrus,” Bakara soothes, stepping closer and laying a hand on his shoulder.  “I promise, they will be safe.  There are guards within the temple to protect the shamen from any danger.”

He whines and Jane steps forward to take his hand in hers, linking their fingers.  “Do you have a guess on time?”

“The Rite will begin when Aralakh is in the center of the sky,” a shamen says, her voice softer than Jane’s ever heard from a krogan, and glides her finger through the air to mime the sun.  Stopping at the highest point, she looks to Garrus.  “That will only be three hours.”

“Three hours is still a long time.”  He rumbles, looking down to Jane for help and she smiles, squeezing his hand.

“You need to get ready, anyways,” Wrex says, offering Damocles to one of the shamen.  “The father should come with me and get ready for his part of the Rite.  You want to have a strong warrior, right?”  He smirks and smacks Garrus’ shoulder roughly, making her mate stumble a bit.  Chuckling, he nods to Bakara to hand over the other baby.  “Sooner you let them go, sooner we can get them to start.”  With Garrus still unconvinced, he grunts and looks to the shamen.  “You got an hour, hour and a half tops.”

One red eye glances to the turian and, finally, Garrus sighs, shoulders drooping, and nods in agreement.  Wrex grins and grabs his forearm, half yanking, half pushing him towards a newly built stone enclosure.  Jane isn’t sure whether to follow the males, follow the shamen, or just stand there without anything to do, but Bakara quickly solves her dilemma with a chuckle and motion to walk with her.

She finally breaks the silence after what seems like hours of nothing but silence and taking in the sights of the new growth in this settlement.  “Garrus is a good father.” 

“Yeah,” Jane agrees with a soft smile before frowning in realization.  “He’s better than I am, I think.”

“Oh?”  She motions aside as she begins to walk towards a small shade under a tree that seems to be stretching over a fallen pillar and up to the sky.  “I don’t see that.”

“I always worry that I’m not a good mother, that I don’t know  _ how  _ to be a good mom.”  She shrugs and slouches against the tree, crossing her arms as she glares at the blades of grass peeking through the sandy dirt at her booted feet.  “The other mothering bullshit I know is from my own mom.  And she did a shit job.”

“Your children love you, you love them, and you will do anything for them.”  Bakara sits on the pillar and looks over to Jane, her shawl shading her eyes even though Jane can sense a smile.  “Everything else is something we will always question in ourselves, but we learn to overcome those doubts.  We do that for them, for our children.”  She looks over to the woman and just watches her in silence, wondering if that’s really all that true.  “You still doubt.”  When she nods, Bakara hums and pats the stone beside her in request to sit.  “Do you love them?”

She snaps her head to the woman as stares at her as if she’s grown a second head.  “Of course I do.”   _ Why would she even ask that? _

“Then what does it matter if you are not like the others?”

“Because I might be doing it wrong?”  Bakara shakes her head.  “No?”

“You are a strong woman and someone would have to be blind to not see the way you care for them.  I hope to be the mother you are.”  At Jane’s dismissive snort, Bakara lays a hand on her arm.  “You fought the Reapers for them.  If that’s not what a mother will do, then I don’t know what is.”  

Exhaling heavily, Jane pats the woman’s hand before laying her elbows on her knees and staring at the ground between her feet.  Contemplation takes over her self-consciousness as she tries to look at what good she may have done for the twins, to stop comparing herself with what she’s seen in vids.

Her mother sought out carnal pleasures, lived in the drug induced realities that separated her from the shit life she found herself in.  Jane was nothing but an accident that her mother was too lazy, or stupid, to get rid of before it got too far.  Hell, she didn’t even grant Jane the relief of adoption when she was born in order to gain money from the government for her ‘ _ care _ ’.  Where that supposed aid went, Jane never knew, but had certain guesses.

Many nights were sent in the filthy hall of the disgusting, dangerous apartment building they lived in when her mother ‘entertained guests’.  On the rare occasions where her mother wasn’t face down in her dingy mattress or throat deep around some stranger, Jane could sleep in her own, stinking, flea ridden bed in a small room.  Sometimes, mid sleep, she’d wake up the moans and grunts of her mother in action and, eventually, she learned that not even that small bed was safe from the writhing mess of limbs and bodily fluids, but it was all she had.  She’d rather sleep on that bed than on the floor of the hall where anyone could come, kick her, spit on her, or worse.

Growing up and as an adult, Jane would see all over the extranet and vids of how mothers  _ should _ be.  They were fantastically perfect, loving, tender, giving, and unburdened by the truths of reality.  There were no soldiers fighting a war with a baby on their hip, or mothers whose crass nature rubbed off on her children.  These women were perfect, not scarred inside or battered out, and they spoke with elegance and tenderness Jane didn’t think she had.  Was she scaring her children?  Being no better than her own mother?  Was she never meant to be a mother?

The sun is high in the sky when Bakara jostles her shoulder, drawing her from her turmoil and raging fear of inadequacy.  When Jane finally shakes away her thoughts and swallows down the sting of panic of failure, she looks up with hopes that it’s time.  What she finds isn’t right, though, as she locks eyes with an angry, growling and impatient looking Grunt.  Before she can ask what’s wrong, he cuts her off.

“Someone took the twins.”


	82. Chapter 82

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I feel I must trigger warn for this chapter as it has extreme violence and gore. If that upsets you, let me know and I'll happily give you a quick and nonviolent summary.

Garrus

When Wrex called him away from Jane - hopefully with something in mind to distract him from all the horrendous what ifs surrounding his children going with a trio of krogan females and out of his hands - he didn't quite expect to end up having a strange dagger set in his hands. Yet, considering the krogan - but, more importantly, Wrex - he isn't all that surprised. Still, it's not everyday that a people's leader and hardened krogan battlemaster hands you a blade made of something entirely different from metal.

"Humans have the saying 'not to look a gift horse in the mouth'...but what is this?" His vocals rumble lightly in confusion, but he tries to not let Wrex hear and take it as ungratefulness. He frowns, mandibles twitching, and looks closer at the faded yellow blade. It seems to have been chiseled instead of forged and has a rough, porous look beneath a matte varnish coating. A suspicion flits through his mind, but it certainly can't be what he thinks. "Is this…?"

"A blade made from a Thresher Maw's bone?" Wrex grins, pride and amusement both glistening in his big red eyes at the completely stunned turian. "Damn right it is."

"Uh…" Garrus scratches his temple before testing the weight of the thirty-five centimeter blade in his hand. _It's certainly not bad. Comfortable in hand…_ "Why?"

"When my firstborn was born, my grandfather gave me a blade much like that one." The red in his eyes darken with a memory apparently still bitter on the tongue, but it's gone just as quickly as it appears. "It's an old tradition. First borns mark a new Rite for our males. More so after the Genophage than before. Normally, a father or brother would carve a blade from a Thresher - hopefully one you took down yourself - and give it, but you're more a brother than my family ever was. You and Shepard both." Tapping the blade with a single finger, he emits a low hum before smirking. "Didn't think to keep any bones from the Maw you took down at the time, but this one was used by the best damn krogan around."

"Let me guess," Garrus says, mock sighing in perfect understanding of the man's amazing modesty.

Wrex laughs, smacking a hand against Garrus' armored back. "Damn right. You treat that blade good, Vakarian."

"Wrex, I," Garrus starts, humming in consideration over the gift and its meaning. Certainly, he - a _turian_ \- couldn't possibly have become so close to a krogan as to become a part of their millennia long familial tradition. "I don't know what-"

A piercing scream cuts through his skull, stabbing white hot blades into his temples, and a feeling of dread and terror explodes into a fiery nova within his chest. Hand shooting to grip his pounding head, he hisses and forces his eyes open to see the danger with blood pumping and adrenaline pulsing through his veins. Yet, as his eyes focus and mind pushes through the intense pain and panic, he sees nothing but a confused Wrex lifting a brow ridge with a question on his lips. Garrus doesn't hear whatever is said as he quickly runs through what the hell it all means.

Gritting his teeth against the intense torrent, he fights the flood of adrenaline demanding his act against a threat he can only _feel_ from some sort of otherworldly source. _A source that almost seems…_

"Jane," he grinds out with a low groan and snaps his eyes open with a suffocating feeling of realization. _Something is wrong. I have to get to her. Nothing else matters. Just to get to her._

Snarling, he shoves down the flood of her emotions and clamps his mandibles against the silent screams railing against this temples. Nothing else matters but to find her and the cause of her uncharacteristic and very crippling terror. Only one thing would make him feel the same way, but he can't bear to let himself imagine. Not if he's to be the one to pick up the pieces Jane's fallen into and find whoever put her in this state, the consequences for them being swift and merciless.

"I have to get to her," is the only explanation he gives Wrex,the krogan mid sentence of what Garrus is sure is some kind of question of confused concern. Storming down the rise of neatly piled stones and rubble turned useful construction supplies, Garrus growls as he shoves aside a passing krogan and doesn't even give mind to the krogan's demand of respect that quickly fall silent at the thresher blade in his hand. Krogan or no, when faced with a turian teetering on the edge of atavistic violence at the thought of his family in danger, the man knows when to drop the issue.

"Vakarian!" Wrex's heavy stomps close in at Garrus' back as they take the steps of the small pyramid two at a time. "What the hell's gotten into you?"

His only answer is a sharp click of Garrus' vocals and echoing snarl as his mandibles jerk and eyes narrow to take in every krogan, cataloguing weak points and calculating the odds of how many he can kill before they kill him. Logic of this being a supposed neutral ground by Wrex's word, there is no longer a guarantee of that claim's truth. Anyone can have a blade behind their back and one has _already_ taken something more valuable to him than his own life and, in result, any of these krogans'.

"Wrex," a gruff and scarred female krogan moves with purpose towards them, a sense of urgency to his step as he meets the two at the base of the steps. Whatever she has to say isn't important to Garrus so much as just getting to his mate is and he doesn't even flinch when his shoulder connects with the woman's. What _does_ cause him grind to a halt is what she says next. "Something has happened. The… the children are gone."

" _What_?" It comes out as a hiss as Garrus spins on his toes and grabs the female by the fabric of her sand dusted clothes, talons easily piercing the thick cloth in his rage. He doesn't need to hear it again, though. He's heard it clear enough. Growling harshly, he shoves her away and looks to Wrex with a look promising retribution. It was the damn krogan that promised his children would be safe and he was stupid enough to believe it.

Forgoing saying anything beyond the withering glare, Garrus lets his feet move from a determined storm to a full on sprint, shoving any krogan unlucky enough to stand in his way aside. He finds Jane pacing at the bottom of a structure no longer anything but pillars, her hand to her comm as she shouts - voice high and on the verge of tears in fear and his reflected rage. "I don't fucking _care_. Find them and get their fucking asses on the shuttles! Whoever isn't here is dead to me and I won't hesitate to put a bullet in each of their heads myself." She slams her fist into a pillar before turning to him and the approaching Wrex. Her scowl twitches into a worried frown, twisted towards a kind of panicked mania that he feels within his own twitching and tensing limbs. "Wrex," she snaps, turning from Garrus to the krogan in question. "You better fucking know where these goddamn motherfuckers have taken my babies." In two steps, she is on him and punches the massive krogan man - making Garrus leer at the satisfying thump her gauntlet makes - but Wrex doesn't retaliate, most likely feeling every bit of responsibility for this that belongs on his shoulders. "You told me our fucking children were safe, you piss poor excuse for a damn krogan. You piece of shit." She clenches her fists and starts to pace in a tight circle. "If they're hurt… You'll get worse than the Reapers _ever_ got."

"If I don't get to you first," Garrus promises with vocals thick and tangling into something barely understandable.

Wrex, assaulted as he is, still doesn't say anything as there is nothing that _can_ be said that wouldn't just anger the two worse. Instead, he looks to Grunt and starts to lay down orders. "Get Aralakh Company here, now. I want all members, not just Urdnot. And our fasted Tomkahs." One red eye looks over to the trembling human and back to Grunt. "Explosives too. We will make Orkamor pay for this."

Grunt doesn't question, nodding sharply and grinning as he accesses his Omni-Tool and starts to relay demands for men. However large this clan must be, Garrus is sure Wrex will be too prepared when at his and his mate's side. They've taken Reapers down to their knees, after all, and they hadn't even threatened their twins directly. He remembers a human saying that fits well in what he plans for this Orkamor clan. ' _May God have mercy upon my enemies because I won't'._

Jane's threat to anyone not here for their move against the rival krogan clan must have hit hard as it takes less time for the ground crew to get to the Normandy, armor up, and come armed to the teeth and ready for a fight. They even brought both shuttles, Cortez piloting his trademark Triton and Aelia in the secondary backup. Every member, from James to Legacy - and even Harrot with the sight of extra munitions and field supplies is anything to go by - wears a look of their own anger and determination to bring hell down upon whoever is responsible. With a single shared look between the two of them, Jane and Garrus both guarantee they'll all get their wish.

 _So long as I get the one responsible for giving the orders._ Garrus growls and smirks in anticipation, practically salivating at the idea of all the horrors he can unleash. Krogan are very resilient, after all.

As the massive band of krogan soldiers and four matching Tomkahs surround them for orders, Wrex turns to him and hands him a handmade leather sheath for the blade gripped tightly in his talons. Without a word, Garrus straps it to his thigh and takes a moment to truly weigh the blade in his hand before sheathing it. He'll definitely use the weapon on this hunt, without doubt, and it already feels at home in his palm as if it was always meant to be.

Wrex gives orders to the krogan while he cracks his neck and closes his eyes to let the feeling of his Archangel persona wash over him, the icy rage that leaves behind a searing burn at his extremities settling beneath his plates. Jane is losing it - he doesn't even need their connection to sense it - so he will gladly take the front lines with a creeping calm that will strike harder than any rage fueled fire she will unleash. After all, once they find the twins, it's her they will need and her that will be there to hold them through the storm of getting out because Archangel is not a man capable of tenderness or feeling for anything _but_ vengeful justice.

"Wrex." Jane's stern voice breaks through the bustle of krogan and the Normandy's crew boarding their own vehicles. Her eyes are alight with a fire of a hundred burning stars as she glares at the massive warlord. "You will come with us."

Looking to Grunt, he points to the larger of the Tomkahs. "Lead the ground teams past the temple and towards the Orkamor camps." Glancing towards Jane and a constantly growling Garrus, he adds, "They can't have gotten far. Not without Tomkahs loud enough to have gotten our attention in the first place."

"You better fucking hope so," Jane snarls before spinning and climbing into Cortez's shuttle.

Garrus jerks his head in order for Wrex to go between them, caged between the two barely contained parents, and, to his credit, the man doesn't argue or give his usual stubborn defiance. That's a good sign - for everyone involved - as Garrus is well aware that Archangel won't hesitate to unleash his anger on their supposed friend if he makes even one more bad decision. Jane's right, after all, when she said they trusted in Wrex's word that their children were protected within the hands of clan Urdnot. It's a mistake they will never make again.

Slamming the door to the shuttle closed, Garrus stays on his feet as Jane jostles her legs on the metal flooring and bores holes into the hull with her fiery green stare. He's never seen her in this state, never seen her losing it, and he knows that she's hanging on by threads of sanity. It's not a good sign - never is - to see soldiers moments from ripping apart at the seams, and it's something that he can't blame her for. If he didn't have a way of pushing away emotions and fears and unlocking the door that holds Archangel at bay, he'd be in no better a position that his wife.

For her and for their children's safety, he has thrown away all attachment to these he has vowed to protect. He _will_ bring down the full force of wrath upon Orkamor Urik. For her, for himself, and for their children. Wrex's assurances of retribution and justice at the hands of his clan and their allies on Orkamor fall silent in Garrus' ears as he devises new - and more brutal compared to his days on Omega - ways to put the fear of a turian in the krogan people once more. Numbers and size mean nothing to the rage of a father bent on nothing but revenge rivaling the bloodlust of one of their own. Urik would do himself a favor to put a bullet through his own skull before they reach him, but - much to Garrus' amusement - his kind are all too stupid to see that kind of logic.

His mind only returns to this horrendous reality that would chill his former self to the bone when Cortez's voice echoes through the shuttle comms. Something about approaching a small structure on the fringes of the war torn city and the wasteland beyond at the foot of barren mountains. There is a collection of Tomkahs surrounding dilapidated building, but any readings of life are being blocked by the massive form of a Reaper Destroyer laid to waste and nearly swallowed by the shifting sands of Tuchanka.

If Garrus were a man it believe in luck and coincidences, he'd imagine the half buried Destroyer the very same that had been claimed by Kalros. If that were the case, it would be a perfect contrast to the destruction his own rage will rain down, overshadowing the massive Thresher's now-pitiful show of power in comparison. It's almost disappointing how futile their attempts at a struggle will be.

"Why didn't you know about this fucking place?" Jane scowls at the red plated krogan and firsts her hands tight enough to make her armor creak and shoulders shake. "You really are a horribly, fucking dense idiot, aren't you?"

"I'll let that one slide, Shepard." Wrex's returned scowl drops with a sigh and shake of his head. "My men would be stretched too thin this far from the settlement, to close to the mountains and enemy clans. We didn't think they'd have the damn quads to come so close to our own territory."

"What a shit way of thinking. If it was _your_ kids…" She shakes her head with a grumble of a very human growl. "It would serve you right." Standing, she shoves his shoulder before jabbing a finger in his face, arm shaking. "You better fucking hope you never have to see it, you piece of shit."

Wrex stands and pushes away the gesture of accusation. "You act like I planned this, Shepard! You think I don't know how fucked this situation is?!" He grabs her shoulders to still her trembling and Garrus growls in warning, too full of adrenaline to recognize it as a passive attempt to calm his mate. "We _will_ get them back. And you can both skin the fuckers yourselves. We're here as backup, but none of my men will take your chance for revenge."

"Good. Because I won't hesitate before shooting them if they get in my way." He merely nods in understanding before walking to the cockpit, giving orders through the comms to his men on the ground and coordinating with the shuttles. As the shuttle dips, Jane steps up to Garrus and, instead of touching him or trying to find comfort in a man that has none to give at the moment, she unholsters her weapon and begins double checking. Perhaps his proximity is enough in the moment. "Let's bring those sons of bitches hell and show them just what happens when you fuck with our babies."

He nods in agreement as he feels the shuttle level itself, bottoming out above their drop off. Before it even sets down, he yanks open the hatch and jumps down with a loud thump and clank of his armor. One look around and he finds their forces grinding to a halt and clamoring from their own transports, weapons snapping and whirring to life in krogan hands. The second shuttle sets down directly besides their own and their own men begin to pile out, solemn and determined expressions on their faces. It's in this moment that Garrus knows, without doubt, that he has complete control on this well equipped army.

"We move in and strike quickly. Anyone harms the twins and I'll shove your quad so far down your throats, you'll choke on them." He growls and scans the group to make sure his threat sinks in, smirking the satisfaction of some of Aralakh looking to Grunt and Wrex for confirmation of this turian's apparent insanity. "Let's move," he snaps before the two krogan can even confirm. They will all know soon enough.

Jane moves too fast to be in control, but Garrus can compensate. He always has. Still, this unfocused nature of her usual brash and improvised battle tactics will get her hurt, and Garrus just doesn't have the patience to think of the possibilities. He has other worries and field strategies to deal with. _Jane. Focus!_ She snaps a glare that would wither any weaker man's resolve, but only steels his own anger. _You'll only get them killed._

A flicker of hurt flashes in her emerald eyes, pulls at his mind, but he can't find reason to regret his words. They are only truth that she must see even in her maternal panic. She can use it as strength, but this is not the way, and if something happens to their children and she doesn't control herself, she'll lay blame on herself. As result, she simply swallows down her emotions, closes her eyes for just a moment, before nodding and shifting her weapon in her hands. _**Understood**_.

Vocals rolling over themselves like waves crashing on the shores, Garrus leads the way with her a step behind. Their 'army' follows suit, quiet and ready to open fire at the first sign of Garrus' order. So far, the loud and boisterous cheers and yells from within the structure very similar to the Hollows Wrex once gathered the krogan in preparation to move against the Reaper standing between them and curing the Genophage. Even from their position taking cover in the shadows at the precipice of the descending stairs that once stood as seating for the masses that once filled this hall, Garrus can count the numbers of the clan below. If they strike fast and efficiently - which won't be a problem if these damn krogan in Aralakh listen to his command - not a single Orkamor krogan will escape.

With a quick jerk of a hand gesture, he orders men to quietly move around to encircle the crowd of krogan - armed and weaponless alike - that cheer and throw hands around the platform they surround on all sides. Upon it stand two males, one armored and one in a robe similar to the shamans in the Urdnot settlement that took his children - _and_ _ **failed**_ _to keep them safe._ It didn't take much deduction to understand Urik had to be one of the two, but which was still undetermined. Unfortunate, as Garrus wants to be sure he doesn't give the man a quick death.

"No one is to kill Urik," he hears Wrex order from beside him and into the comm. Turning to him, the krogan motions the armored man upon the very obvious pulpit. "That's-"

Jane's sharp intake of breath and weak whimper draws their attention, Garrus' plates vibrating in attention at the change in composure. Eyes snapping towards her own, he follows the wide and ice cold stare to the center of the Orkamor crowd where Urik roars and raises his hands, beginning his tirade. The sight of the man isn't want fans the fire within the turian, however, but the sight of the crowd passing two bodies in their hands towards the pulpit.

Immediately, Garrus' rifle is up to his eye, crosshair on the shaman as he takes first Damocles, then Cassia, in each massive hand. He can't fire, however, because Urik - the damn bastard - stands between him and his target. While not normally a problem, Garrus can't risk putting his children in risk by killing Urik and leaving the shaman alive to act in those moments before Garrus can put a bullet through his skull as well. Not to mention what would happen if his children fell into the crowd.

Holding each of his delicate infants with a hand around their arm and dangling them like toys, Garrus snarls and grips his weapon in a death grip as he counts the breaths until Urik moves. Jane beside him must know his own reservations as she hisses something to Wrex of 'getting his useless fucking men in position' before she throws caution to the wind. As much as Garrus wants to be prepared, he isn't sure if he should let her or put his children first, only moving when Aralahk is in position and ready to mow down all opposition in one quick blow.

His worries of harming his children are answered when Urik turns to the crowd, a massive blade gleaming in his hand. "With this child," he booms, raising a screaming Damocles dangling by his leg before him and - _dammit!_ \- just enough in the way that shooting would harm his son. "I mark the krogan movement of revenge against all those who wronged-"

Pain shoots through Garrus' head with an ear piercing roar as electricity crackles against his side in the same frozen moment when Urik draws his blade against his precious son. His fingers - damn the consequences - move in the same instant that he knows Jane move, throwing herself with her biotics. Enhanced reflexes couldn't have anticipated, or chosen, the option of harming his own child in order to kill Urik before _he_ could harm him. It's a horrendous idea, but one already determined for him as his bullet connects with Urik's skull at the same time that Jane smashes into him, her arms grabbing Damocles from his massive hand and the man falling into the stunned crowd.

He doesn't even know he too is roaring his rage until his lungs take in a sharp inhale of breath, silencing the deafening sound only to start once more as he forgoes all strategy and begins the descent. He takes each step with another crack of his rifle - shoot, breath, shoot, reload - and doesn't even notice how his own men surround him, creating a spearhead through the now frantic Orkamor clan that fall to their fire, armed and unarmed alike. The closer he comes to the platform where his wife cradles their children protectively and uses her full biotic power to break krogan - foregoing control for the force of shattering their own skulls or twisting their bodies - the less he uses his weapon and more he resorts to physical contact, blade now in hand.

Jumping onto the platform beside his mate, he approaches the injured shaman and kneels over him with a snarl. His rifle is thrown to the side as Garrus takes the blade in both hands and slams it repeatedly into the shaman's unplated face with first cracks of bones, then a wet shucking as nothing but flesh lies in his way. Orange splatters over his armor - painting the black a sickly brown - and covers his face as he finally yanks the blade from the mass of what was once a krogan male. Yet, it's not enough, and won't be until he sees Urik and, with hope, gets his chance to truly make the man pay for what he's done to his child.

He pants heavily, chest heaving, as he hears Jane spouting nonsensical sounds of soothing to their wailing children. Part of Garrus claws to go to them, to comfort them, but just the thought of seeing the pain, of acknowledging their cries, would only feed the rage. He can't be trusted with them in this state, but he can look to Sidonis with every intention to shoot the man if he isn't already tending to them, and finds the man has already begun the distressing duty of trying to calm a screaming mother and children while moving to save Garrus' son.

His mandibles clench at the sight playing in his mind once again of the blade sliding across his son's face and a sharp pain pierces his heart. Fighting the urge to jump from this pulpit and take to ripping apart every remaining krogan with teeth and talons, Garrus runs his eyes over the sight of the Normandy's crew mowing down unarmed krogan as Aralakh tries to focus their attention on those they deemed more of a problem. Garrus knows that, even if they won't admit it, these krogan who share no connection beyond orders to him and his children have shied away from killing supposedly unconcerning members of Orkamor.

That his own men have no qualms of supposed 'civilians' only strengthens his trust in them. Even Grunt and Wrex know his and Jane's intentions for Orkamor well enough to not hold back against even those without armor and weapons. Let Aralakh hold back for their own sensibilities, Garrus and his own will clean up the mess. He gives an approving nod to no one in particular, the sounds of gunfire like music to his ears, before going to his family.

Archangel steps back long enough for Garrus to feel a pang of worry run through his veins at the sight of dark blue coating his son's face and Jane's arms. One of her hands grips Sidonis' armor tightly as if without her grip, he would cease to exist and no longer be able to help in stopping the bleeding with medigel. Cassia lays in her lap, sobbing and gripping onto her mother in confusion and fright, and Garrus hums roughly - unable to completely hide the anger in his vocals - as he leans over and tries to check her for injuries. Aside from some obvious bruising where the krogan bastards handled her, it seems like Urik and his damned vendetta hasn't touched her.

"Shepard." Sidonis' voice is high, harmonics shrill enough to cut through the canopy of gunfire and infant screams. "We need to get them to the Normandy. _Now_." His eyes snap to Garrus with rapidly twitching mandibles. "This medigel is meant for _adults_ , not children!"

"Then what are you fucking waiting for?!" Garrus nods, ignoring his mate's panicked state.

Taking to his comm, he speaks loud enough to make sure the man hears him. "Cortez. Prep the shuttle for immediate extraction to the Normandy. Alert the medbay of an emergency situation." He doesn't wait for the affirmation before looking to Sidonis, taking Cassia in hand, and standing. "Get them to the Normandy. Help Solus." He shoves the baby into the man's hands before practically jerking Jane to her feet, holding her a moment so she doesn't collapse from her weakened state. "Go with them."

She actually frowns at that, a new kind of fear in her eyes. "But I don't know-"

"They need their mother right now-"

"And their father."

He gives a stern shake of his head before pushing her roughly on the back, moving towards the edge of the platform where, upon seeing their approach, Arcanus encases them in his biotic barrier. "That's not something I can be right now," he says roughly and grabs her to face him, trying to relax his rampaging vocals. "Go. They need you." Growling, he flicks a smirk at the thought as he says, "I will bring you their heads."

Jane clenches her eyes shut before gripping Damocles closer and nodding. She doesn't speak as she rushes up the steps with Sidonis and Arcanus in tow. Garrus trusts the two men to watch after her and his children until he makes sure no krogan will ever think of taking out their idiotic retribution for the Genophage against _his_ family. Allied with Wrex or not, every krogan on Tuchanka will know of Garrus' name after he gets his hands on Urik because there's no way the man was taken down so easily with a single bullet and biotic charge.

If he did, then Garrus isn't sure who may then become the target for Archangel's fury.

"Vakarian!" As if reading his thoughts, Wrex lumbers towards him with gunfire at his back. "We've found him trying to run like the damn coward he is."

Garrus doesn't need explanation. He merely grunts and storms towards the platform, jumping up and grabbing his weapon to shoot the nearest krogan in the eye. With one more down, the numbers are dwindling rapidly, but Garrus has eyes for only one man. Shouldering his weapon, he snaps his head to Wrex and Grunt at the foot of the raised pulpit. "Bring him out to the Tomkahs."

He purrs at the idea running through his mind. He won't bring the man back to camp, but he _will_ put the full force of a group of Tomkahs to good use in his justice. What was the saying? 'Judge, jury, and executioner?' Garrus has never felt more in those positions than now.

As Wrex moves to wherever he needs to be to collect the Orkamor idiot, Garrus moves to assist with clearing out the last of the krogan with his men. Rym and Legacy have cornered a group of three into a low cover with their drones and gunfire, so Garrus can easily move in and, before they notice his approach, slit the throat of one, Overload another to drop his shields and open him up to Legacy's fire, and kick the last off balance and out of cover. Rym gets a shot in, but it merely pierces him in the shoulder, but the krogan doesn't last long anyways before Garrus slams the blade down at the junction of forehead plate and unprotected eye ridge, killing him.

Sephone's grenade fire sends a group of females into the open from their cover and, drawing his weapon, Garrus takes down two before Bray can take the third and James the armed male rushing to the defense. Garrus is sure that the Alliance man isn't one for open 'civilian' casualty, but he's keeping quiet about the others doing so. Perhaps in effort to keep the peace in these tense moments, or simply because, when considering what these people had planned for two innocent children has taken him to a point where he just doesn't give a damn. Garrus isn't sure which is the case and he's not one to care until it becomes a problem.

When the last of the krogan fall to Normandy and Aralakh weapons, Garrus holsters his blood splattered rifle to an equally coated set of armor and wipes orange blood and flesh from his brow. "Make sure they're dead and then come up. We still have one more." He leaves them to prepare his final punishment, climbing up to the surface where Wrex and the few men he gathered to stand guard with Orkamor Urik as his forehead mended and bloodrage built. _Let him get ready for a fight. He'll be sore mistaken if he thinks he'll be getting a fighting chance._

Smirking at the man, Garrus stands with mere centimeters between their faces as he gives his orders. "Arrange four Tomkahs in twos, backs all facing a center point. You have some kind of tow line, I assume?" It's only logical that the massive tanks would have some kind of way to haul themselves or heavy rubble out of the way, especially now that they have become vital equipment for reconstruction.

"Yeah," Grunt says and Garrus sees him in his peripheral glance Wrex's way. "Why?"

"Go get them, kid." Wrex jerks his chin towards a Tomkah before giving Garrus a long look. Silence falls between them and he can almost feel the weight of the man's stare, but he doesn't cut his eyes from the dead man before him, still wearing a look of presumptuous confidence in his survival. _Oh, how you will scream._

Wrex can be heard relaying the orders to the others as Garrus sees more than hears Urik begin to speak. He draws his attention away from his inner imaginings of what's to happen to listen as the man laughs. "You think I fear you, _turian_? What's this, Wrex?" He looks away, not aware of the danger in doing so when facing a predator. It's easy for Garrus to just strike and rip out his throat, but that would ruin his plans. "You follow this spineless _kirok's_ orders now? Oh, how Urdnot has fallen!"

"Look around you, Urik," Wrex says as he drops chains at Garrus' heels. "You're a dead man walking. You shouldn't have even thought of taking those kids."

"Those abominations?" He laughs again and Garrus grins, humming at the blind assurance this man has that he will simply die the martyr that will only fuel his cause. "I was doing the galaxy a favor!"

"Which is what I'll be doing." Garrus steps back and motions the chains. "Chain each limb to the back of a Tomkah's winch." Realization hits Wrex like a concussive shot and his pupils dilate in surprise before constricting back into a relaxed place. He nods and turns to his men.

"You heard him! Move it!"

Urik barks another laugh, but it seems strained and less confident of his odds. He struggles under the armed guard, but Garrus merely hums as he rounds the man and slams a foot into his unarmored knee. It buckles without breaking, but it's enough to give the Urdnot captors enough of a grip to maintain control. "You think… you have the guts, turian? You don't have the quad."

Grunt chuckles darkly as Garrus smiles sickly sweet. "We'll see."

That makes Urik's expression fall and his eyes jerk towards where Rym, Legacy, Wrex, and now Grunt approach with opposite end of the chains in hand. "Wait… I know who else is planning-"

"Save it, Urik," Wrex orders as he grabs the man by the shoulder and yanks him closer, scowling. "You threaten the young of anyone and you deserve whatever Garrus gives you." He grunts and shoves the man to his knees. "And it's going to be a big one. I almost feel sorry for you."

Chained up with winches slowly pulled taut to raise the now panicked and struggling krogan to hover above the sandy and damaged stones, Urik lets loose pleas and promises of anything to spare him this fate, but it falls on deaf ears. Instead, Wrex exhales a heavy sigh before looking to Garrus and nodding in ready before stepping back and leaving no one but Garrus and Urik in the center of the crowd of Aralakh and Normandy soldiers. Archangel couldn't imagine any better place to be in the moment, the thought of Jane's emotional turmoil, Cassia's fear, and Damocles' pain in his mind and fueling his chillingly gruesome wrath.

"On my command, you will activate all winches." He looks to each operator to see their curt nod of understanding and draws the Thresher blade from its sheath, stepping to the Orkamor clan leader.

"Please, turian… I'll do anything." When that doesn't work, Urik clenches his jaw and changes tactics, at least trying to seem more a man than he really is if he isn't to make it out of this alive. "You're a coward. You think you can hide behind the might of Urdnot and make them do your bidding?" He spits, the glob of mucus merely hitting Garrus' chestplate and sliding through the brown grime of krogan blood. "Just wait until you see the true might of the krogan."

It starts as a chuckle, soon building into a rancorous laugh as Garrus throws his head back. The sound echoes off the stone structures of a long dead city and his eyes are portals into a hell unseen since his two years without his mate, his strength. Without a word, he cups the back of the man's head and slides the sharp blade across the seam of head plate and forehead. Urik's eyes widen in terror as he struggles against the agonizing slow removal of his head crest, from front to back of his skull, and even some of the other krogan turn away for a moment to collect themselves. It's a trick he learned on Omega, that the plate above their head wasn't just for headbutting, but for protecting that which could cause instant death.

He doesn't press hard enough to injure the brain, however, as it'd be too easy a death for the man. Instead, he peels off the plate, using small slices to trim the tendrils of flesh connecting the plate to the cranial cavity. With each centimeter of progress, the man's whines and murmurs grow, tangle, and become nothing but a blabbering mess of fear of death and promises to pay for his crimes. What he doesn't know is that he _is_ , just not in the way he would have chosen.

Plate coming off with a moist shucking and flood of wails in pain at the touch of the gritty air on the exposed flesh and splatter of orange blood to cover that which is already drying on his armor, Garrus roars and raises the prize into the air. The other krogan cheer with the Normandy crew, roars and shouts of victory of their own, and, with signal given, the winches screech to life.

Armor creaks as the krogan's body puts up a fight against the pressure, but soon the grunts and groans of resistance to the inevitable give way to a piercing sounds no one could imagine falling from a krogan's lips. It could even rival Jane's own cries, the heavy baritone of a krogan male shifting to the shrill wails of a small female. Although, being slowly pulled limb from limb can do that to a man.

Creaks turn into cracks and snaps, his limbs taking on a otherworldly shape as the joints are pulled apart and bones broken. Urik's undersuit darkened between the plates of his armor as his flesh slowly begins to stretch and tear, unable to withstand the unrelenting force of the mechanical winches pulling him in all directions. His voice breaks with one final scream before his mouth hangs open with nothing but a sickening expression of silent agony.

Garrus' eyes never leave the man as the final crack and churning slurps of moist sounds and Urik's arms first come apart within his armor to leave behind formless gaps where the undersuit surrounds nothing but air. The weave soon gives in to the pull and rips apart to let the winches reel in the bloody pulp of arm remains as louder, more echoing snaps and slunks of legs pulling apart quickly cut off any further hope for the krogan man to recover. As the left leg tears off with a spray of orange blood over the turian, the lifeless torso leaves behind a thick sludge of flesh, shattered bones, and blood in the dirt as it trails after the last, misshapen leg.

Archangel roars into the air, blade in one hand and trophy in the other with his the remains of his enemies painted across hide, plate, and armor. Let his wrath be known throughout Tuchanka, for he has no misery for anyone dumb enough to try any such stunt again and not expect the repercussions.


	83. Chapter 83

Jane

By the time the shuttle had arrived at the Normandy, they were drowning in the most sickening shade of blue Jane had ever seen. Her _son's blood_ covered them all, from her ghostly pale skin to Sidonis' grayish plates. They could do nothing but try to stifle the flow with their hands and bandages because they carried only adult doses of medigel, too strong for a small infant already losing too much blood.

Jane had never felt such fear as she was drowning in. Not since holding her mate and husband in an all too horrifically similar situation.

It took Lantar, Ehilu, and Arcanus together to pry Damocles from her deathly tight grasp, and not without her uncontrolled screams and fear driven struggle against the very hands that wanted to help. She couldn't fight for Cassia as she was already handed over to a member of the crew to take into the MedBay, butt she still clung to her son.

Sense couldn't get through her mind as she threw punches and kicks at them - many landing but not being returned by the three males - but they eventually wrestled her adrenaline soaked limbs from her blood chillingly quiet son. Unable to force open the MedBay doors once they passed through, she wailed, keened, and screamed her rage and terror as she bashed her fists against the metal doors.

It wasn't until Arcanus stepped out - strategically standing in order to block her from seeing any sight of what they were doing to her children - and grabbed her bloodied hands with a soothing sound she'd never heard from the usually stoic man. His eyes revealed nothing, and it only made her sob louder, but he was firm in his insistence that she get herself cleaned, fed, and tended to. Despite her arguments, she was too exhausted from drained her biotics and emotional agony to protest as he pushed her into the crew showers and demanded she calm herself down, do right by her children, and be ready for them when they are ready for her after their treatment.

Now, sitting in the too silent MedBay beside her children's cribs as they sleep in an unnatural slumber, Jane supposes Arcanus' insistence was worth it. She can now stretch her fingers through the bars of the cribs without fear of spreading the caked on blood over the clean sheets. Without fear of covering their clean plates with reminders of their pain, she can take her son and daughter's hands as they rest and squeeze with a gentle pressure to reassure herself that they are still here, still alive and breathing. Even if both are covered in dark bruises of black and blue - her son now marred by a jagged wound across the left side of his face - they are _alive_ , close, and now safe.

With hope, this horrific experience will even be able to fade into nothing but the scar across Damocles' face, and not hold the intense terror she knows the two infants suffered. If there's anything Jane wishes - except for the impossible desire to go back and never let this atrocity happen - it'd be for this peace of mind, for her children to be spared the terror of today's trauma. Let Garrus and herself suffer the pain for the rest of their lives and feel the regret of their decisions, but the twins shouldn't have to suffer more than they already have.

Frowning when she has to lean over and stop Damocles from unconsciously scratching at his freshly bandaged face in his sleep, Jane sighs and caresses his fringe. For such a beautiful child to forever wear a mark of his parents' mistakes hits harder than the now dulling pain from their kidnapping. Where the realization that they are now safe in her arms sinks in to calm the irrational fear of losing them, a whole new pang of guilt feeds on her at the injury that will always stare her son in the eyes when he looks at himself. What will it feel like to look at himself and not know why he wears a permanent mark he will never be able to mask?

Jane releases a long, pained sigh and closes her eyes as the MedBay doors slide open with the softest sound. Ehilu has stepped out to give her some time alone before he must return to further monitor the twins, but she knows he'd announce his entrance. Other than the doctor, no one would dare intrude on her personal mourning and self-anguish. Instead, she immediately recognizes the heavy falls of her mate's steps, even without the heavily armored boots to amplify his unique cantor.

Glancing back at the opaque privacy curtains, she sees his shadow carrying something large. He sets it heavily on the unused bed before growling, head shifted to watch the object in question for a few seconds. As soon quickly as it happens, the moment has passed and Garrus steps closer, pushing aside the thin curtain with an exhaustion weighing down his shoulders much like the drained feeling she too shares. His eyes are hollow, empty of the rage and pain of before, and a cold absence remains to speak of his own regret over today.

"Garrus," she whispers, calling to him, and he comes, dipping his head to lay against her shoulder. A soft keen come from his throat and she wraps her arms around him, holding him and he holding her as if the only lifeboat in a tumultuous hurricane.

"How…"

She doesn't need to hear his words to know where his heart is, and nods in understanding as she holds him tighter for a few more moments before stepping back. Looking to their children, she takes a steadying breath before starting with the list of their mistakes as parents. "Both of them has bruises all over from where those bastards handled them. Cassia has a fractured arm," she adds as she watches him run just the very tips of his talons over their daughter's tiny cast, "and Damocles…" Jane bites her lip to keep from sobbing once more and clenches her eyes shut to collect herself as her husband, silent as the dead, steps to his crib and leans in to purr in comfort - a hint of sadness in his vocals. "Ehilu says he will still have his sight, but…" How is she to tell him that the very reason he can't fully heal his own scars - that damage to the underlying flesh beneath will never allow plates to regrow - is the same for their son's at such a young age?

"But it'll scar." She nods, her husband too observant and able to deduce the good and the bad for his own good. He keeps softly before grabbing her chair to save his back from the angle of having to bend. "I assume they used my saved blood?"

The ship always has a stashed away collection of blood for the crew, most donated by the very people who'll need to use it. Given that the twins are almost complete copies of their father thanks to the Reaper tech within her own body, Jane still thanks Solus' forethought to collect and build a reserve when he first joined their crew. With Garrus still seeking revenge on the Orkamor clan, it saved their son's life as they'd never have calmed him, brought him to the Normandy, and transferred blood fast enough.

Keeping close, Jane lays her hand on Garrus' shoulder and feels the slight shake as he drops his head, their mental connection letting her feel shame run through his veins as it does her own. They both fucked up - there's no coming back from that - but perhaps, together, they can hold each other up and give strength their children will need while they heal from injuries. His head lifts, but doesn't leave their son as he speaks, almost too low for her to catch.

"No more," he whispers, vocals thick with emotion and stern absolution that contrasts his gentle hold on their sleeping children's hands.

Jane initially frowns in confusion, taking to a knee to look him in the eyes, but understanding slowly begins to sink in at the sight of his clenched mandibles, piercing stare, and vibrating growl that barely manages to make his worried keen. Still, she has to know if he really means what she thinks, if he truly wants to turn their backs on everything at the possible cost of unknown consequences. When he turns that icy scowl her way, she gets her answer and, for some reason, feels relief wash through her.

Perhaps being free is all she's wanted since the war had ended, but she has been too afraid and too big a coward to admit it either aloud or to even herself. Something in the strength of her mate's conviction tells her he's been waiting all this time for her to come to terms with that desire, but has now made the decision for them. She can't find reason to argue or deny the logic in his demand.

"Never again, Jane," he reaffirms, his brow plates twitching downward. "No longer will we follow the orders of the Council, the Alliance, Hierarchy - or anyone else besides ourselves. They can all go to hell, for all I care, but us? We're _done_."

Despite her misgivings before of just how successful they'd be at actually escaping responsibilities piled up on their shoulders, she's emboldened by the flicker of Archangel's will in his eyes. She nods and squeezes his shoulder. "And if anyone says otherwise, we have our own army of allies."

"I knew I wouldn't have to convince you." He rumbles softly as his expression relaxes into a frown. "I don't think I could take it if you insisted. We've deserved this since the beginning-"

"But I was unsure we could pull it off." She shakes her head once. "No. No, that's not true. I was afraid of the unknown, of what would happen to us - to _them_ ," she emphasizes with a wave of her hand to the sleeping infants, "if the Council or whoever came after us. I mean, look at the Procris shit." Looking to him, she sighs in an admittance she'd only ever trust him in showing. "I was wrong. I was weak, and I was wrong. Look at where my fucking pussy footing around got us."

"No. You can't take all the blame yourself." He leans back in the chair with a heavy sigh and takes her hand in both of his, grip clinging tight in the very real concern he feels for their children, but cannot unleash while holding them. "As much as I said it, I never moved towards actually getting us out of it all. I guess…". He sighs and lifts her hand to press her knuckles to his mouth. "I guess I was worried and unsure how to do it after Procris found us, didn't know who would back us if we ended up being the 'scourges of the galaxy'. Or whatever the Council would call us." He huffs a mocking laugh, closing his eyes and letting his head rest on the back of the chair. "If anyone's a coward, it's me. I wanted to leave so bad, but I was afraid that you wouldn't be with me - not that you _want_ to still serve, but that you, too, were unsure. I…" Frowning, he looks to her with a subharmonic sound that seems to match his look of guilt. "I needed to be strong, but I couldn't do it without knowing you were right there with me, had the confidence in our success. I-"

Knowing she has to cut him off from beating himself up further with his guilt and self-appointed mental reprimands, Jane squeezes his hand and pulls it to her to brush her lips over his knuckles. "We were both wrong, both scared. Everything is so different, and we can't solve it all with bullets and yelling loud enough. It won't do us any good now to keep thinking on our mistakes," she says with a pained exhale, avoiding the urge to look to their children and nail home just what their mistakes have brought them, "but to start figuring out what's next."

Garrus nods with a bass note hum and stands, pulling Jane up to her feet with him as they both hear the soft swish of the MedBay doors. It must be Ehilu or Sidonis checking in on them and the twins, ensuring Damocles' medications are still flowing to calm his pain. They owe the two men their son's life and _both_ of their children's overall comfort. Bruised as she is, Cassia was also in need of medical treatment for her injuries and given some sort of relief from today's horrendous turn of events.

Seeing and hearing both men approach, their shadows playing on the dimly lit privacy curtain, Jane breathes in effort to seem relaxed. If the doctor even so much as thinks she's still reeling from the twin's state, he's bound to administer some sort of sedative. Given her and her mate's intentions to finally tell the galaxy to shove it, being drugged up and under the influence of even more than just the effects of an emotional and physical draining. In a way, the exhaustion in and of itself has a calming quality to it, and she even feels the weakness in the massive turian at her side that keeps him from crowding in his usual - and sometimes restricting - overprotectiveness.

"Can you watch them while we tend to something?" Garrus asks, looking between the two men who seem just as close to exhausted as Jane feels after their hours long struggle to save Damocles' life and sight - of which they succeeded, against all odds, on both accounts. Ehilu nods without looking away from the machine monitoring their son and Sidonis takes a moment to look the two over before nodding softly with a whispered word of reassurance. "Thank you." She smiles and lays a hand on the younger turian's shoulder to strengthen her words as she says, "You kept him safe, kept him…" _Alive._

Lantar rumbles and smiles, his eyes warm in a way that she's never seen in the man who was once so frightened of pissing off her husband that he practically walked on eggshells. Even Garrus sets aside all of their torrid past as he speaks something in his vocals and gives the man a curt nod of thanks. The moment passes quickly as Sidonis soon turns to the murmur of a drowsily stirring Cassia, ready to soothe her back to sleep, and Garrus turns to her. "Ready?"

"Let's get this over with." She follows him out, passing a very suspicious looking bulk of orange smeared plating. "Is that…"

"I made sure the krogan would always remember Urik's mistake in crossing us," is all Garrus says to explain why a massive krogan's head plate sits on the empty medical bed. Oddly enough, the sight doesn't lighten her mood as much as the idea of finally giving the middle finger to the entire galaxy and taking their lives into their own hands. _That_ is enough to give her an anxious rush to her steps as she closes the gap to walk directly beside her mate through the halls and to the lift.

When they arrive on the second level and step out onto the CIC, Wrex waits for them. He paces with a shocking look of shame and worry on his broad features and, as Garrus steps aside to speak to an equally concerned Traynor of their plans, Wrex approaches. Grunt can be seen storming in from the airlock with Barbara in tow, but the older man speaks first with a raised hand to hold them at bay. In this moment, Jane feels a kind of relief at avoiding the trio of krogan crowding around with sympathetic inquiries on the twins and her own state.

Instead, she faces only Wrex as he frowns, looks her over, and finally speaks. "Shepard," is all he seems to be able to say before he looks towards her mate - an obvious conversation having already passed between the two men and not one that sits well on the man's shoulders. "I… I'm sorry." His eyes turn to her and he lifts his head to accept anything she can throw on him. "You are Urdnot - no, my _family_ \- and I failed you. I failed the pups."

The regret and self-depreciation in Wrex's voice doesn't sound right, the proud and strong man never one she'd have expected to ever feel guilt over his actions, but she doesn't feel it as anything less than he laying himself bare before her for her to see fit. And, yet, her anger has left her, long since burned and ashes washed away with Damocles' cobalt blood. Instead, she lays a hand on his shoulder and gives a curt nod before raising her eyes to the other two with a shaky smile. "It's alright, Wrex," she replies softly as she looks him in the eyes. "You helped Garrus make it right, and Damocles will come out of it with just a scar." She huffs a laugh, trying to lighten all of their moods. "Looks like he'll be a hit with the ladies."

Wrex smiles, shoulders hefting with chuckles as he looks to Garrus. "Looks like you're in for quite the ride with that one, then."

"Let us know when he starts getting breeding requests," her husband says with a dry bit of humor in his voice as he closes the gap between them and fixes Wrex with a narrow-eyed glare. "I expect the krogan to remember this."

"Oh, they will," Grunt says as he lumbers towards them, a scowl on his face. "Damn bastards will know fear when they hear your name."

With a curt nod, Garrus crosses his arms and continues. "This has been the last thing we do for 'the good of the galaxy'. We're done. Question is, what side will you be on?" Wrex lifts a brow ridge at the demand in her mate's voice, but before he can question, Garrus explains. "If the Council deems us criminals or orders our arrest, where will the krogan lie? Will you defy the Council, or will you bend to them?" That seems to hit a bit of a nerve, but Jane knows her husband well enough to know he's just 'scoped and dropped' Wrex with words alone in no different a way that he'd take down a Reaper in his sights. _Sniper indeed._

"You expect us to go to war? For _you_?" Wrex's voice vibrates with a growling tone as he glares up at Garrus. "After all we've had to go through, you think I'll risk it all with the Council?"

"The Council won't move against you if you do back us," Jane says, understanding the battlefield and forces they've slowly built up without even knowing. As Wrex crosses his arms in expectation for further information, she smiles at the idea of just the kind of army they have at their backs. "Primarch Victus holds no love for the Council. Same with the quarians and geth. The krogan would not be fighting with us alone, but alongside the largest fleet, military force, and technologically adept species."

"And what of colonization?"

Looking to Bakara, Garrus answers. "The Council aren't the only ones with rights to assign colony rights. If the Council does decide to take action even when facing the odds, then the turians, quarians, geth, and krogan can begin a unification and cooperation over colony rights and shared trade routes _without_ the Council."

"That's a huge undertaking," Wrex says with a huff of disbelief.

"We don't anticipate it ever coming to fruition. The Councilors may be cowards, but I doubt they will be stupid enough to call for a war they can't win against galaxy renown 'heroes'. It would both look bad after they once publically backed us during the war as well as piss a lot of people - civilian and militant alike - to see them declare us criminals without having to admit to their dirty work." Her mate looks to Samantha and rumbles at some sort of gesture she makes, jerking his chin once before laying a hand on Jane's shoulder. "Speaking of, we have a Council to speak to in the Comm Room."

"The twins are asleep, but I'm sure Ehilu and Sidonis will let you see them," Jane says before stepping back a few paces to see their reactions to the forgiveness and acceptance in that offer. Smiling in reassurance, she then turns to rush behind her mate into the unused War Room and through to the QEC sensor.

"Specters," Councilor Irissa greets as the four images of the Councilors take shape before the two Vakarians.

"What's the meaning of this?" Jane smirks at the Dalatrass' demand and crosses her arms, glancing to Garrus to see his own look of amusement at the flustered state of the four delegates before them. "Your communications specialist claimed this was an emergency."

"And you both look all too smug for this to be an _actual_ hail of importance," Councilor Maxima jerks her hand in a dismissive wave off with a loud scoff. "We aren't at your beck and call, _Spectres_. Remember who you answer to, not the other way around."

Garrus grunts and flicks his mandibles before drawing them in slow to lay against his jaw, showing the slightest hint of teeth. "That's about to change." As the most adamant of the four gape and fluster, he continues to cut off any interruption. "Consider this our resignation."

Jane lifts a hand to cut them off, smirking smugly at how Irissa is left with her mouth parted. "And before you demand answers or start bitching, know that we are well aware of the lengths you will go to try and 'convince' us otherwise, I'll make you aware of one thing." She crosses her arms and looks up to her mate, seeing him shift his mandibles in a proud smirk. "We have plenty of dirty laundry on all of you."

The Dalatrass scoffs and looks to the others. "They are lying. They have nothing."

"Bluff aside," Osoba shakes his head at her before looking to them with an odd sort of hurt and betrayal. Perhaps he was weighing his own authority on Jane's reputation as the 'First Human Spectre', which is a shame, but no longer her problem. "You understand that Spectres can't just choose to step down without Council approval?"

"Then you better give us approval," Garrus retorts with a snort. "Because we aren't your puppets anymore."

"That is something we cannot grant with the galaxy in its current state." The asari Councilor lays her hands at the small of her back, lifting her chin in the ever dignified assumption of control. _Oh, how she'll be in for a surprise._ "We are in need of Spectres."

"That's a damn shame."

Councilor Linron makes a bark of a laugh and scoff combined into some uncharacteristic squawk. "You'd rather we denounce you as _rogue_ Spectres just to get your way?"

Octavia - _I have no earthly idea how Garrus could have ever stomached her -_ smirks and chuckles darkly. "You'd be hunted for the rest of your lives. Is that what you'd want for your children?"

Garrus practically snarls, but holds back his ire as he takes a deep breath and closes his eyes to collect himself. Such a move out of character seems to unnerve the four Councilors more than the original declaration of their 'retirement', and he uses it to his advantage when he says, "Our children's safety is none of your concern." His eyes pan the group, landing on each Councilor for a moment before moving to the next. "Whether you declare us rogue or not, I will guarantee you one thing. Send anyone after us and they're dead."

That strikes them mute as Jane nods to him, adding, "And let's not forget that we have some very _interesting_ information that the galaxy would just _love_ to see, I'm sure." Skeptical looks only receive a grin of satisfaction as she begins to list off. "Let's start with everything we saw on the Citadel. What do you think the galaxy will think we they find out the dangers of Reaper corpses? And what of the fact that you haven't released a public statement warning of these dangers while you, instead, approve attempts to disassemble and examine them?"

"We've had no reports to make us believe-"

Garrus cuts the Dalatrass off with a chuckle. "Then how about we go into each of your personal secrets?" Smirking, he leans on the console for the communications. "Let's start with you, Councilor," he says to the salarian woman. "What do you think will happen when the Primarch knows of your attempts to sabotage the cure for the Genophage? Or what of the krogan when they realize you were, even in the end, trying to make deals with us to further sabotage it? Even at the cost of one of your own, if it came down to it?"

"What?" The turian Councilor's eyes widen as she scowls and snaps her head towards the woman with a low growl. "You would have doomed my people!"

"Then how about we move to you?" Jane takes the lead for this one, cocking a hip as she crosses her arms and lifts a brow. "Do the other Councilors know about the assassination attempt on the volus ambassador?"

"He was aiding Cerberus-"

Councilor Irissa turns a cold stare towards the turian woman. "And we see to these matters with due process when concerning another species and galactic safety. Anything involving cross species incidents require Council interference."

"Does that not apply to withholding Prothean artifacts?" She twitches at that, Garrus' words finally cutting through the icy exterior of projected control the asari woman wears. "Or should we not bring up the beacon your people have hidden on Thessia while Council law requires all others to hand over their own Prothean finds to the galactic community?"

Before anyone can call the woman out on her people's hypocrisy, Jane turns to the stunned human Councilor and clears her throat to get everyone's attention. "That just leaves humanity, doesn't it? Tell me, Councilor, do you know of Cerberus' origin? Of how they evolved from an Alliance sanctioned black ops?"

"That's… You can't-"

"Or how about the fact that the destruction of the Alpha Relay was actually the result of an _Alliance_ operation?" The other three Councilors look to Osoba for answers as Jane continues. "And let's not forget that Garrus and I have access to evidence for these very same accusations. Well, that and _more_ , actually."

"And you'd use it against us if we don't let you go," Octavia deduces with a low growl and raised mandible in disgust. "Announcing you as rogues would be doing the galaxy a favor."

"Then do it, but remember our promise," Garrus growls at his former bedmate and narrows his eyes, focusing solely on her. "Don't toss away your Spectres chasing us down."

As he leans up, Jane chuckles at his smug smirk and steps closer to the comm console. "And you can consider _that_ our resignation." With a firm smack of her palm, she cuts the channel and laughs at the lost and shocked look on a Council finally losing their control over Jane and her mate.


	84. Epilogue

Jane

"Tell me again what we know of Arcanus' plan?"

Jane hums, not looking away from the cockpit window to answer Joker. Instead, when he looks back to her expectantly, she merely shrugs, lips turned down in an oblivious frown. "Hell if I know. He just said he gave you the coordinates and we'd be there shortly."

"Yeah, I get that." Joker turns back around, fingers flying over the console. "But these coordinates aren't really what I expected."

"And they are?"

Before he can respond, Garrus' footfalls approaches and voice echoes off the metal walls as he answers for the pilot. "Virmire."

Eyes widening in surprise, Jane turns to fully face him and check his face for truth, not seeing any falsehood in his features. Still, that doesn't quite explain away all her questions. One being, "How the hell is it even still safe?"

"The coordinates take us to the opposite hemisphere than where Saren's cloning facility was," he says as he crosses his arms, taking to looking out of the cockpit viewport and into the stars they speed by at FTL. "Apparently Arcanus has been working hard ever since we even imagined up this crazy idea."

"And what exactly does that mean?" She looks out at the same stars. "Has he really made a merc band?"

"From the sounds of it."

"Holy hell," Joker merely says, vocalizing her very feelings.

Her mate merely hums in thought before catching her eyes. "You should be the one to tell the others this is it."

Puffing out a breath, she can't help but nodding in agreement before leading the way back down the ramp. This isn't really a conversation she'd thought she'd have with anyone - to tell all they know that there will be no more 'getting the band back together'. Sure, everyone they've known and served with has every right to be by their side in this new venture, but the sound of 'mercenary' is not one Jane expects many of their friends will jump and line up for the opportunity to be included.

Perhaps, she considers, it's not so much the fear of losing connections to the _people_ she knows, but the life she became so used to living - hectic and dangerous as it was. There's no telling where being mercs will take them and there's a sort of discomfort in the possibility of going alone with just Garrus and Arcanus at her back when they once had close to an army.

With that worry in mind, Jane stops mid step and turns back to call over her shoulder. "Joker?" When he turns, she jerks her chin towards their destination in the unseen distance. "Are you with us?"

She knows he understands what she's asking, but can't tell for sure what his reaction may be as he turns back around and stays silent for a seeming eternity. "Yeah. Yeah, I'm with you." He clears his throat and, even if she'll never call attention to it, she sees his eyes flint to the lifeless AI terminal. "Legacy and Rym think they're close, and I'm not missing that." He tries to ease the tense atmosphere with a huff of a laugh and shrugs. "Besides, I doubt you'll let me fly off with the Normandy."

"Not a chance," she responds with a smirk before joining Garrus on his way to the CIC. Before heading to the Lift, she stops and motions Traynor to come speak with her a distance from the rest of the bridge crew. "I don't know if you've heard the whispering-"

"So it's true?" Traynor blinks in shock before looking around the CIC, taking in both the crew and the overall sight of the Normandy around them. "You're really going to leave it all and be mercenaries?"

"In a way." Garrus steps up and lays a hand on her shoulder. "This isn't an order for anyone, but an offer. You can stay and work with us - knowing we won't do anything to harm innocent people - or return with the rest of the crew to Earth." Rumbling at her nod of understanding, he steps back and flicks a friendly smile. "I even think Steve and James are heading to Earth to see what trouble they can get into."

"I…". She wrings her hands and frowns. "I don't know if I want to go back - but I don't know if I want to work in more dangerous missions again." Looking aside, she chews her lip in contemplation of what to say when Jane gets an idea. "There's a war… I don't want to be in another war with the Alliance."

Where can a communications specialist find work without being in any actual combat? With Traynor so clearly denouncing any allegiance to the Alliance and their fucked up decision to practically move towards committing genocide, there is somewhere she will not have to face such a dilemma. "Liara," she interrupts, cutting off the woman's near rambling of reasons to overcome her fear of the unknown. "Work with Liara." Jane jerks her head towards the direction of the War Room. "Contact her and I'm sure she'll give you a job because I'm damn sure she can use all the comm techs she can get."

She doesn't say more - not sure if announcing the identity of the Shadow Broker with the regular crew is wise - but doesn't need to as realization reaches Traynor's eyes and a hopeful smile spreads across her lips. The young woman nods and says her own rushed thanks for the idea before nearly breaking into a sprint through the doors. The sight is quite entertaining and definitely gets a chuckle, but there is so much more to do before they land and surprise the rest of the crew, so Jane quickly catches up to Garrus holding open the elevator.

"That went well," he jokes with a chuckle and wraps an arm around her shoulders to pull her to his side. "You know, Arcanus is sending out a debrief to all crew, so, if you want, you don't have to go to every crew member to say the same thing."

Even with the offer, she knows she'd never leave the family they've built to learn of the change in their lives through messages. _How rude that'd be - 'Hey guys! Get off my ship because we're mercs now!'_ Instead, she shrugs and smiles up at him as she leans her weight on his side. "Nah. I think they all deserve to know why we're suddenly becoming space pirates."

"Not pirates - mercenaries." He looks down to her with a smirk. "There's a difference."

She snorts and steps out of his arms as the doors open on the Crew Deck. "Tomato, tomato-"

"That still doesn't-"

"Semantics," she retorts over her shoulder as she rounds the corner into the Mess to find a good number of the crew in question present. "Wonderful! I can save my breath and just tell you all now." Clapping her hands together, she looks over the crew gathered over their breakfasts. "I'm sure you all already know what's happening, but I'll go over it for those who don't check their extranet mail before stuffing your gobs. Garrus and I are retiring. And by that, we're no longer doing the Council's dirty work, but deciding what shit we do on our own, getting paid, and not answering to anyone by ourselves." Some look to each other in curiosity, others nod, and some still eat as if they are already fully aware of their personal decision on the matter. "So, this is where I tell you all that you don't have to stick with us, but I need to _know_ what the hell you all are going to do. Whether you will just fuck off, rejoin civil society, go hijack some space station - whatever. I'd like to know if we need to find you some way back."

"We have vessels able to return anyone not willing to join us back to whatever major port of their choice," Arcanus explains over his datapad and steaming mug, and Jane has no other response to that but to nod.

Rym is first to speak, still buried in a half-destroyed geth turret she's been working on. "Legacy and I are already sticking around to work on EDI." Legacy isn't around to agree, but Jane figures he wouldn't just let Rym make the decision for him without he already agreeing to the logic of sticking around. Fixing EDI has become their shared pet project over the time aboard, after all, and she doubts either will walk away from the idea of technically bringing the AI they never knew back to life.

"I got nowhere else to go, so I'm in if you can give me work." Jane nods at Sephone's declaration as Arcanus sets down his datapad to clear up some more crew members not present.

"Harrot has already spoken with me. He will return to Omega, but remain a source of supplies and equipment from the station. Engineers Donnelly and Daniels have decided to remain in employ in exchange for remaining technicians aboard the Normandy."

"I got to go back to Omega," Bray says with a grunt, jabbing his fork into a pile of eggs. "Aria didn't say anything about a permanent leave with you, but I'm up for work when she gets off my back."

Jane snorts as Garrus chuckles, the both of them knowing all too well the pressure the woman puts on those she thinks at her beck and call. Looking to Cortez and James, she soon frowns because she knows full well what they have in mind for their own futures. She can admit that she selfishly wishes otherwise, but she couldn't see either throwing away their futures for something she and Garrus so desperately need for their own peace of mind and sanity. "I guess you're heading back to the Alliance?"

James nods with a frown, sadness and guilt in his eyes as he shrugs and Steve pushes food around on his plate to hide his own frown. "Yeah, Lola. Wish we could stay, but it's not that easy, you know? We were able to stick around because you were 'training' me, but I gotta get back."

"You'll make a hell of an N-7, and you still have Ash around to whip you into shape," she says with a smirk that relaxes into a smile when the two chuckle weakly. "And this isn't the end. You're free to contact us through… _means_." _Liara's Shadow Broker channels_ , but they're smart enough to understand.

"Aye, aye, ma'am." Cortex smiles and stands, offering a hand. When she takes it, he pulls her into a warm hug. "It's been a thrill serving with you, Shepard." She pats his back firmly before he turns to take Garrus' hand in a shake. "You both take care of yourselves."

"Ah, come on now!" James hops up and pulls both Jane and her mate into a surprisingly strong hug. "You're acting like we're never going to see each other!" He grins wide and crosses his arms, hip jutted in cockiness. "And you won't be able to keep those little ninos from their tio!"

"My translator didn't pick up half of that."

He laughs at her husband's confusion as James roughly smacks his shoulder, and turns to the others who still haven't given their answers. Not too surprisingly, Sidonis first looks to Ehilu for his own answer. "Will stay aboard. Curious about children's development and want to tend to injuries until healed."

"I'd like to stay and learn what I can," Sidonis says, quickly clicking his mandibles as he looks to the doctor. "If you'd be willing to teach me?"

"Of course." Solus smiles, bringing a warm rumble from the younger turian, and Aelia chuckles from Lantar's side.

"Hell, I'm with you, Shepard." She looks to Sidonis and Jane can hear a soft purr she's damn sure the two don't think she can hear. _Interesting…. "_ I think I can find reason to stick around longer."

She has to bite back her chuckle as she nods, but her smirk shines through. "Well, be sure to keep out of the cockpit or Joker will kill you two for making a mess."

Lantar's mouth falls in stunned silence, but Aelia takes it in stride, fluttering her mandibles in a knowing smirk. Laughing at the two, Jane leaves them as her eyes catch Arcanus standing and Garrus motioning her over. Following them, the three head into the starboard observation just as the Normandy drops out of FTL and begins to close in on the vibrant planet that held such impact on their lives. Where they once saw it as a place of great evil, it now stands as the birthplace of their future.

"So, this is it, huh?" She walks up to the large viewport and lays a hand on the clear glass, watching Virmire grow. "What exactly awaits us?"

"Many of my loyal men from the Blue Suns have begun to establish a foothold on Virmire." Arcanus moves to stand beside her as Garrus takes his place on her right. "With its location, we will not have to compete with governing bodies trying to colonize the planet."

"Right, because it's not in Council space and the Terminus leaders don't want any of the others to have rights to it." Garrus rumbles and reaches down to take her hand, adding, "And the threat of radiation is bound to scare anyone else off."

"Indeed." Crossing his arms behind his back, the light of the ship breaking through the atmosphere plays across his white plates. "Prefabs of the complex are already being brought in and constructed. I have been working with Harrot to establish a trade route between here and Omega. With time, we will be able to expand to more ports. We already have possible contracts coming through comm channels." He looks to Garrus before down to her. "You both are the first to designate what jobs we will perform, however. Whatever you do not agree with, we will not take on."

Jane huffs a laugh at just how much work the man has been putting into it. "Now all we need is a name."

"That, I leave to the two of you."

"Jane?" Her mate, ever the one to not take command when she wants it, looks to her with a raised brow plate.

"Why am I always the one to do these sort of things?"

"Because you wouldn't want it any other way."

Rolling her eyes because - dammit - he's right, she cross her arms and leans back as they break through the clouds. _Damn, is that a beautiful sight_ , she thinks at the crystal clear waters rolling over the near white beaches before leading into the rocky cliffs and tropical jungles. Her husband always did say they'd retire on a tropical beach somewhere, but perhaps taking to being mercs on one's way more suited to their lifestyle.

"Well," she starts, trying to think, but only coming up with a few ideas. "We can't do blue, red, or yellow because those are already merc companies." Drumming her fingers on her elbow, she runs their own pasts through her mind to pull at something that fits them personally, but makes for a hell of a good name for a mercenary company. "We can't really be the pink pussies or something…"

"I'd sure hope not," Garrus deadpans, looking over the growing shores and settlement taking shape the closer they draw on the merc - _their merc_ \- compound.

"Black… it should have black in it," she says, looking back and forth between both men. "Garrus and I wear all black armor now, and you don't really have a color beyond the Suns' blue-". Arcanus simply nods in understanding, needing no further explanation, and that leaves her fumbling for something else. "And, uh-"

"Wraiths," her mate says suddenly, not looking away from the large camp of prefabs and people moving through with purpose to build more structures. "We're all technically dead, either in name or official papers. Jane and I are ' _Spectres_ ', we've both been declared dead after the war, and - Reguix - you're dead in the eyes of your enemies in the Blue Suns." He finally looks away and smirks towards them, declaring, "Black Wraiths suits us well, don't you think?"

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Author's Note:  The children's childhood will be a separate piece of one-shots showing certain childhood milestones and memories.  I plan (maybe) to have another large fic for after a time jump wherein those one-shots will be where the children are now adults and fighting alongside their parents.  If there are any specific prompts of the Cassia and Damocles' childhoods you'd like to see that I haven't already done, PM me or leave a comment.  


End file.
